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#V#*  -  'JfY///w,(  (y/syy/^ 




OR,    THE    ART    OF    WALKING    THE 


BY  W.   H.  WILLIAMS,   M.A. 










OR,    THE 




By  Mr.  GA  T. 

Quo  te  Mxri  fedes  ?  An,  quo  via  duett  t  in  "Drbem  ? 


L  O  N  <D  O  N: 

Printed  for  Bernard  Lintott ,   at  the  Cro/s-Keys 
between  the  Temple  Gates  in  Fketftreet. 





BIBLIOGRAPHY    ........  xxiii 

NOTE         .                   .         .          .          .         .          .          .  xxiv 



AND  SlGNS  OF  THE  WEATHER         ...  3 

II.  OF  WALKING  THE  STREETS  BY  DAY        .         .        15 
III.  OF  WALKING  THE  STREETS  BY  NIGHT     .         .       33 


NOTES:  Title-page     .         .         .         .         .         .         .59 

Advertisement        .         .         .          .          .         .59 

Book  I.          .......       60 

II 66 

III 80 

INDEX  TO  THE  NOTES          ......       89 





I.  PORTRAIT  OF  GAY.  From  the  painting  byW.  Aikman 
engraved  by  B.  Dickenson         .          .  Frontispiece 

II.  STREET  SCENE  [HOGARTH]          ....  3 


IV.  CHARING  CROSS         , 10 

V.  DRUMMERS  AT  A  WEDDING  [HOGARTH]     .         .  15 

VI.  CHEAPSIDE        .         .         .         .         .         .         .19 


VIII.  THE  MACKRELL  SELLER      .....  25 

IX.  ANY  BAKEING  PEARES?      .....  26 




XIII.  THE  NEW  EXCHANGE         .....  37 

XIV.  LINCOLN'S  INN  .......  38 


STRAND        .......  42 

XVI.   SOMERSET  HOUSE       ......  46 


EDITION         ......  page  v 



c  THE  lighted  shops  of  the  Strand  and  Fleet  Street ; 
the  innumerable  trades,  tradesmen,  and  customers, 
coaches,  waggons,  playhouses;  all  the  bustle  and 
wickedness  round  about  Covent  Garden ;  the  very 
women  of  the  Town;  the  watchmen,  drunken 
scenes,  rattles; — life  awake,  if  you  awake,  at  all 
hours  of  the  night;  the  crowds,  the  very  dirt  and 
mud,  the  sun  shining  upon  houses  and  pavements; 
the  print-shops,  the  old  book-stalls,  parsons  cheapen 
ing  books,  coffee-houses,  steams  of  soups  from 
kitchens,  the  pantomimes — London  itself  a  panto 
mime  and  a  masquerade — all  these  things  work 
themselves  into  my  mind,  and  feed  me,  without  a 
power  of  satiating  me.' — CHARLES  LAMB. 

\  *A 

;^1        INTRODUCTION 

THE  eighteenth  century  was  an  age  of c  Arts/  We  have 
an  Art  of  Knowing  Ones  Self,  and  of  Painting  in  Oil,  an 
Art  of  Pleasing  in  Conversation^  and  of  Assassinating 
Kings.  It  was  also  an  age  of  burlesque.  Addison  claimed  that 
his  generation  surpassed  the  ancients  in  '  Doggerel,  Humour, 
Burlesque,  and  all  the  trivial  Arts  of  Ridicule.'  c  We  meet,' 
he  says,  '  with  more  Raillery  among  the  Moderns,  but  more 
Good  Sense  among  the  Ancients.'  The  note  of  the  preceding 
generation  had  been  dignity — the  dignity  of  the  court  of  Louis 
Quatorze,  introduced  into  England  at  the  Restoration,  when, 
'in  ev'ry  taste  of  foreign  courts  improv'd,'  Britain  became  'to 
soft  refinements  less  a  foe";  the  dignity  symbolized  by  the 
flowing  periwig  with  its  luxuriant  ringlets,  and  expressed  by 
Dryden,  when  in  1700  he  spoke  of  Chaucer  as  '  a  rough  dia 
mond,'  who  *  must  first  be  polished  e'er  he  shines.'  But  dignity, 
in  the  hands  of  inferior  artists,  had  inflated  itself  into  pomposity 
and  become  oppressive.  The  young  wits  revolted,  and  smote 
the  oppressor  in  the  forehead  with  the  smooth  stone  of  ridicule. 
Gay  wrote  Trivia  primarily  as  a  burlesque  on  versified  '  Arts.' 
But,  in  spite  of  Pope's  epitaph,  Gay  was  no  satirist.  He 
may  have  been  c  formed  to  delight,'  but  he  was  certainly  not 
formed  '  to  lash  the  age.'  Pope  was  living  in  the  past  when 
he  wrote  the  epitaph  on  Gay  in  Westminster  Abbey.  '  The 
sabbath  of  his  days '  was  not  yet  fully  come,  but  it  was  already 
the  preparation  of  the  sabbath.  Satire  was  the  vogue  in  his 
youth,  and  he  had  made  a  reputation  as  a  satirist.  Satire,  he 
believed  or  affedled  to  believe,  was  the  consecrated  weapon  of 
moral  indignation.  His  satire,  he  flattered  himself, c  heals  with 
morals  what  it  hurts  with  wit.'  c  I  am  proud;  I  must  be  proud,' 
he  cried,  '  to  see  men  not  afraid  of  God  afraid  of  me.'  But 
Gay  was  one  of  those  fat  sleek-headed  men  who  sleep  o'  nights. 
He  had  no  mission  to  cleanse  the  foul  body  of  the  infe6led 
world.  To  him  it  was  no  unweeded  garden  that  runs  to  seed, 



but  an  easy,  comfortable  place,  full  of  interests  and  pleasures. 
He  calls  himself  a  '  fat  Bard,'  and  in  the  epitaph  he  wrote  for 
himself  says  he  had  found  that '  Life  is  a  Jest/    In  the  fable  of 
The  Hare  and  many  Friends  he  describes  the  hare  as  one  c  who 
in  a  civil  way  complied  with  everything  like  Gay/    Pope  is 
reported  to  have  said  that  *  he  was  a  natural  man  without 
design,  who  spoke  what  he  thought,  and  just  as  he  thought  it.' 
He  was  not  savage  like  Swift,  nor  spiteful  like  Pope.     If  he 
pricked  an  affe&ation,  his  sting  did  not  injeft  that   drop  of 
venom  into  the  punfture  which  inflames  the  wound.    By  some 
kindly  freak  of  Nature,  when  uoluit  iocari,  the  scheme  of  ridi 
cule  seemed  to  suffer  an  unconscious  change  into  gentle  realism. 
He  came  to  scoff,  but  remained  to  pray.    Instead  of  cursing  he 
blessed.    The  Shepherd 's  Week,  originally  intended  to  ridicule 
the  artificiality  of  the  conventional  pastoral  as  represented  by 
'  namby-pamby '  Philips,  became  popular  as  a  realistic  pidture 
of  country  life.    '  Thou  shalt  not  find  my  shepherdesses,'  he 
says  in  the  preface,  *  idly  piping  on  oaten  reeds,  but  milking 
the  kine,  tying  up  the  sheaves,  or,  if  the  hogs  are  astray,  driving 
them  to  their  styes.'  Yet  in  this  avowed  parody  of  the  c  critical 
gallimawfry  made  by  certain  young  men  of  insipid  delicacy ' 
we  find  pieces  of  natural  description  like 

Now  the  Sun  drove  adown  the  western  road, 

And  oxen  laid  at  rest  forgot  the  goad, 

The  clown  fatigu'd  trudg'd  homeward  with  his  spade, 

Across  the  meadows  stretch'd  the  lengthen'd  shade. 

The  What  d'ye  Call  It,  which  contains  parodies  of  Philips' 
Distress- 'd  Mother,  Otway's  Venice  Preserved,  Rowe's  Jane 
Shore,  and  Addison's  Cato,  is  now  known  only  for  the  pathetic 
ballad,  "  Twas  when  the  seas  were  roaring.'  The  Beggar's 
Opera,  written,  according  to  Johnson, « in  ridicule  of  the  musical 
Italian  drama,'  was  nearly  damned,  as  Quin  said,  the  first  night 
but  was  saved  by  the  song,  «  Oh,  ponder  well !  be  not  severe ! ' 
and  by  the  innocent  simplicity  of  Polly. 

So  Trivia,  which  began  as  a  burlesque  of  the  « Arts  ' 
developed  (as  Joseph  Andrews  developed  from  its  original 
design  of  burlesquing  Pamela)  into  an  original  poem,  contain 
ing  a  series  of  picturesque  scenes,  the  harvest  of  a  quiet  eye 


which  had  been  fascinated  by  the  panorama  of  the  London 

The  streets  of  a  great  city  have  always  had  a  fascination 
for  poets,  from  the  psalmist  who  walked  about  Zion  telling  the 
towers  thereof,  to  the  mystic  who  mused  over  the  domes  and 
temples  of  London  asleep  in  the  morning  light.  Horace  used  ' 
to  saunter  through  the  Forum  in  the  evening,  pricing  cabbages 
and  corn,  and  listening  to  the  fortune-tellers.  Juvenal  has  left 
us  etchings  of  the  monkey  performing  as  a  legionary  on  the 
back  of  a  goat,  and  then  munching  a  rivelled  apple  in  a  corner 
of  the  embankment ;  and  the  long-shore  crimping  house,  where 
jack-tars  caroused  cheek  by  jowl  with  thieves,  executioners, 
and  coffin-makers,  to  the  fitful  tinkling  of  the  eunuch's  tam^ 
bourine.  Langland  saw  in  his  vision  a  London  tavern,  where 
mine  hostess  makes  the  pudding-ale  hot  i'  th'  mouth  with 
pepper  and  peony  seeds,  and  Clement  the  cobbler  stakes  his 
cloak  against  Hick  the  hackney  man's  hood  at  the  c  new  fair,' 
the  loser  to  have  his  cup  filled  at  the  expense  of  the  winner; 
where  tinker,  rat-catcher,  and  scavenger  hob-nob  from  matins 
till  evensong,  to  the  tune  of '  let  go  the  cup,'  with  Clarice  of 
Cock's-lane  and  Peronelle  of  Flanders.  Dan  John  Lydgate, 
monk  of  Bury,  tells  how  Flemings  cry  felt  hats  and  speftacles 
in  the  streets  of  mediaeval  London;  cooks  offer  pies,  ribs  of 
beef,  and  bread,  with  ale  and  wine;  costermongers  shout  hot 
peas,  strawberries  ripe,  and  cherries  on  the  branch;  hawkers 
vend  silk,  lawn,  velvet,  and  Paris  thread  in  Cheapside;  hot 
sheep's  feet,  mackerel,  and  green  rushes  are  cried  in  Candle- 
wick  Street  near  London  Stone.  He  sees  his  own  hood,  which 
had  been  stolen  from  his  shoulders  in  the  crowd,  hanging  in  a 
shop  in  Cornhill.  The  bargeman  at  Billingsgate  will  not  ferry 
him  across  the  Thames  for  less  than  twopence,  and  London  , 
has  already  licked  up  his  last  penny  for  a  pint  of  wine. 

Gay  was  not,  as  Swift  once  called  him, c  as  arrant  a  cockney 
as  any  hosier  in  Cheapside.'  Though  apprenticed  to  a  London 
silk  mercer,  he  was  born  and  educated  at  Barnstaple,  and  in 
spite  of  Swift  could  '  distinguish  rye  from  barley,  and  an  oak 
from  a  crab-tree.'  He  was  not  as  arrant  a  cockney  as  Dr. 
Johnson.  To  Johnson  London  was  '  the  fountain  of  intelligence 

?  R  i  r  i  A 


and  pleasure.'  The  happiness  of  London,  he  said,  is  not  to  be 
conceived  but  by  those  who  have  been  in  it.  c  No,  Sir,  when 
a  man  is  tired  of  London,  he  is  tired  of  life;  for  there  is  in 
London  all  that  life  can  afford.'  Boswell  reports  that  they 
were  walking  one  evening  in  Greenwich  Park,  when  Johnson, 
to  try  him,  asked,  '  Is  not  this  very  fine  ? '  Boswell,  having,  as 
he  confesses, '  no  exquisite  relish  of  the  beauties  of  nature,  and 
being  more  delighted  with  the  busy  hum  of  men,'  replied, 
c  Yes,  Sir;  but  not  equal  to  Fleet-street.'  '  You  are  right,  Sir,' 
retorted  the  sage  with  enthusiasm.  But  Gay  looked  upon 
London,  not  with  Boswell  as  *  the  great  scene  of  ambition,  in- 
struftion,  and  amusement;  comparatively  speaking,  a  heaven 
upon  earth  ';  nor  with  Wordsworth  as  *  a  sight  so  touching  in 
its  majesty';  but  rather  with  Steele,  when,  after  lying  at 
Richmond,  he  rose  at  four  in  the  morning,  and  took  boat  for 
London,  with  a  resolution  to  rove  by  boat  and  coach  for  the 
next  four*  and  twenty  hours.  The  only  moral  he  could  draw 
for  his  readers  from  the  description  of  his  day's  ramble  was 
that  he  thought  it  of  great  use,  if  they  could  learn  to  keep 
their  minds  open  to  gratification,  and  ready  to  receive  it  from 
anything  they  met  with. 

If,  with  George  Gissing,  we  define  art  as  '  an  expression, 
satisfying  and  abiding,  of  the  zest  of  life,'  we  may  call  Trivia, 
with  certain  obvious  limitations,  a  work  of  art.  It  gives  ex 
pression  to  Gay's  zest  of  life  as  seen  in  the  streets  of  London. 
And,  if  we  adopt  for  the  time  a  Protagorean  or  pragmatistic 
definition  of  poetry,  that  what  produces  the  effeft  of  poetry 
on  me  is  poetry  to  me,  Trivia  may  be  called  a  poem  by  those 
who  find  pleasure  in  the  pictures  of  bygone  days  it  brings  up 
before  the  imagination.  In  winter  the  stage-coaches  with 
miry  sides  and  stiff  horses  are  late  and  move  slowly  through 
the  town.  When  the  weather  becomes  milder,  the  nodding 
coachman  snores  on  his  box,  and  chairmen  idly  crowd  the 
tavern  doors.  Before  rain  the  swinging  signs  creak,  the  book 
sellers  in  the  open  square  hastily  strip  the  broad-sides  from 
the  rails  of  their  stalls,  the  watermen  on  the  Thames  spread 
blue  awnings  over  their  wherries,  and  the  stockings,  hanging 
on  poles  from  the  hosier's  shop,  flag  in  the  damp  air.  In  the 


morning  the  newsboy  runs  breathlessly  through  the  streets, 
crying  The  Flying  Post,  or  The  London  Gazette,  the  little 
chimney-sweeper  skulks  along  to  his  work,  the  shops  begin 
to  open,  and  carts  rumble  along.  Later  in  the  day  hogsheads 
are  rolled  from  tilted  carts  down  taut  ropes  into  underground 
cellars;  carmen  count  the  billets  of  firewood  as  they  dump 
them  on  the  pavement;  and  the  wheels  of  heavily  laden 
waggons  clash  in  the  narrow  streets.  Or  we  have  a  winter 
scene,  frozen  gutters;  snow  falling  in  flakes;  women's  pattens 
clogged ;  men  knocking  clots  of  snow  from  their  boots  against 
the  posts;  coaches  rolling  silently  along;  schoolboys  snow 
balling  the  coachmen,  or  covering  the  treacherous  slide  with 
a  thin  layer  of  snow  to  beguile  the  unsuspe<5ling  matron,  or 
make  the  damsel  reveal  her  green  stockings ;  harnessed  chair 
men  standing  idly  outside  White's,  or  swinging  their  numb 
hands  round  their  waists;  the  sempstress  with  red  nose  trip 
ping  to  the  Exchange,  or  playing  at  shuttle-cock  and  battle 
dore  across  the  counter  with  her  companions;  a  fair  on  the 
frozen  Thames,  the  fat  cook  roasting  an  ox  whole  over  the 
blazing  fire,  the  long  avenues  of  booths,  and  the  various  games 
played  on  the  ice. 

For  the  antiquary  Trivia  offers  interesting  descriptions 
of  the  manners,  customs,  and  dress  of  the  period.  We  see  the 
beau  with  his  amber-tipped  cane  held  under  his  arm  for  orna 
ment  rather  than  for  use,  or  lolling  at  ease  in  his  gilded  chariot 
or  cushioned  sedan-chair  on  his  way  *  to  court,  to  White's, 
assemblies,  or  the  play.'  We  see  the  powdered  footman 
fastening  his  wig  under  his  flapping  hat  on  a  rainy  day. 
Early  in  the  morning  we  see  the  draggled  fish-wife  hawking 
the  fish  she  has  just  bought  at  Billingsgate;  the  she-asses 
before  great  houses  braying  to  be  milked ;  sallow  milk-maids 
chalking  up  their  scores  on  the  doors;  drummers  rousing  a 
newly  married  couple  from  sleep.  We  see  the  fop  treading 
delicately  in  his  red-heeled  shoes,  while  his  mantling  peruke 
sheds  clouds  of  powder  around ;  the  bully  cocking  his  hat, 
trimmed  with  tarnished  gold  lace,  as  he  struts  along,  arro 
gantly  taking  the  wall  of  every  one  who  will  give  way  to 
him;  the  poor  wretch  standing  in  the  pillory  for  perjury, 




pelted  with  turnips  and  rotten  eggs  by  the  mob;  the  broker  in 
his  broad  beaver,  intent  on  some  mortgage,  taking  devious  by 
ways  to  avoid  the  expense  of  a  coach ;  and  the  ruined  spend 
thrift,  with  unkempt  wig,  dodging  the  Fleet  Street  draper's  dun. 
We  see  the  rope  with  wisps   of  straw  stretched  across  the 
street  to  show  that  it  is  closed  for  repairs ;  the  hoops  nailed 
on  newly  painted  stalls  to  proteft  the  unwary  passenger  from 
coily  woes';  and  the  lanterns  hung  at  night  over  heaps   of 
rubbish  or  excavations.    We  see  the  London  'prentices  kick 
ing    the    football    through    the    streets,   and    the    '  dexterous 
glazier'  strongly   returning  it.     On   Monday  and  Thursday, 
the  '  days  of  game,'  we  see  the  surly  bull  and  muzzled  bear 
slowly  walking  through  the  streets  to  be  baited  at  Hockley- 
hole.     On  Wednesday   and   Friday,  the   fasting   days   of  the 
week,  the  stalls  are  covered  with  fish — carp,  trout,  salmon, 
lobster,  sole,  and  scallops.    In  spring  the  streets  resound  with 
cries  of  flowers,  elder-buds,  and  young  nettles  to  cleanse  the 
blood;  mackerel  are  cried  in  June,  even  on  Sundays;  walnuts, 
plums,  and  pears  in  autumn,  when  the  boys  raffle  for  oranges. 
Christmas    is    heralded   with   cries    of  rosemary,  bay,  holly, 
laurel,  and  mistletoe.    The  brass  knocker  swathed  in  flannel 
shows  that  there  is  sickness  unto  death  in  the  house ;  or  a 
funeral    passes,    the    herse   blazoned    with    scutcheons,    and 
crowned  with  nodding  ostrich  plumes.     Chairmen  sling  the 
poles  of  their  sedans  on  their  shoulders  for  a  shilling  fare,  or 
fall  into  the  gutter  when  drunk,  upset  the  passenger,  and 
break  the  glass  windows  of  the  chair.     Runners  distribute 
handbills  advertising  cheap  tailors,  or  seventh-born  dodtors. 
Cutpurses,  pickpockets,  and  shoplifters  abound.    The  «  subtle 
artist,'  tempted  by  the  silver  hilt,  steals  your  sword  in  the 
crowd ;  unfelt  fingers  lighten  your  pocket  of  watch  and  snuff 
box.;  even  your  wig  is  not  safe  from  the  child  carried  in  a 
basket  on  the  thief's  shoulders.    The  pickpocket,  chased  with 
cries  of  Stop  thief !  dodges  nimbly  through  the  crowd,  but  is 
caught  and  put  under  the  pump,  or  ducked  in  the  horse- 
pond.     'Guinea-droppers'  play  the  confidence  trick  on  the 
unsuspecting  countryman;  card-sharpers  and  thimble-riggers 
tempt  his  credulity;  professional  bravoes  force  a  quarrel  on  him. 


The  evening  has  its  perils  for  the  pedestrian.  Wooden 
shop-fronts  suddenly  descend;  tottering  planks  and  long 
ladders,  carried  on  the  shoulders  of  labourers  returning  from 
their  work,  threaten  his  head.  The  night  is  still  more 
dangerous.  If  he  essay  to  cross  the  road,  unescorted  by  the 
'  link-boy's  smoky  light/  he  runs  the  risk  of  breaking  his  shins 
against  some  porter's  load,  resting  on  an  alehouse  bench,  or 
besmirching  his  white  stocking  with  the  muddy  wheel  of  a 
barrow.  He  may  fall  into  an  open  cellar,  or  upset  a  coster- 
monger's  stall.  Even  the  link-boy  is  not  to  be  trusted.  In 
some  dark  alley  he  may  '  dowse  the  glim/  and  rob  his  con 
voy  with  the  help  of  his  confederates.  Then,  too,  wander 
forth  the  sons  of  Belial,  c  flown  with  insolence  and  wine ' — 
Nickers,  Scourers,  and  Mohocks — and  maltreat  the  belated 

We  see  some  of  the  most  famous  buildings,  streets,  and 
squares  of  London — the  broad  pavement  of  Cheapside ;  Thames 
Street,  stretching  from  Fleet  Ditch  to  the  Tower  with  its 
moated  walls,  malodorous  with  tallow-chandlers'  boiling  fat, 
stale  fish  on  the  fishmongers'  stalls,  hogsheads  exuding  train- 
oil,  and  piles  of  Cheshire  cheeses;  fair  Pall  Mall,  with  its 
gilded  coaches,  its  perfumed  shops,  its  windows  gay  with 
brilliant  ribbons ;  or  blazing  with  flambeaux  in  the  evening, 
while  the  footmen  wait  to  escort  their  mistresses  home  after 
paying  calls;  Drury  Lane,  haunted  by  c  fair  recluses  ' ;  Ludgate 
Hill,  with  straining  horses  slowly  dragging  huge  carts  up  the 
steep  incline;  the  site  of  the  once  famous  Arundel  House, 
now  occupied  only  by  a  wooden  pump  and  lonely  watch- 
house  ;  Burlington  House,  celebrated  for  its  paintings  and  the 
residence  of  Handel ;  the  meat-markets  of  Newgate,  Leaden- 
hall,  and  St.  James';  the  fruit-market  of  Covent  Garden; 
Moorfields,  famous  for  second-hand  books,  and  Monmouth 
Street  for  old  clothes;  Lincoln's  Inn,  infested  with  beggars  in 
the  daytime,  who  will  knock  you  on  the  head  with  their 
crutches  at  night. 

Trivia  burlesques  not  only  the  didafticism  but  also  the 
classicalism  of  the  period.  Writers  studied  the  Roman  poets 
of  the  Augustan  age,  especially  Virgil,  Horace,  and  Ovid, 


R  ir  I A 

either  seriously  imitating  and  adopting  their  thoughts,  lan 
guage,  and  style,  as  having  attained  a  standard  of  excellence 
no  longer  possible,  or  using  them  for  the  purpose  of  parody  in 
treating  a  subje<5l  in  a  mock-heroic  spirit.  Gay  had  two  pre 
cedents  in  the  latter  method— Garth's  Dispensary  and  Pope's 
Rape  of  the  Lock — each  of  which  he  mentions  in  his  poem. 
It  was  part  of  his  scheme  of  burlesque  to  compare  incidents 
of  daily  life  in  the  streets  of  London  with  incidents  borrowed 
from  classical  poetry  and  mythology.  It  must  be  admitted 
that  his  range  of  illustration  is  limited,  and  his  examples  trite 
and  commonplace,  and  not  always  very  apposite.  When 
moisture  gathers  on  church  monuments  before  rain,  c  Niobe 
dissolves  into  a  tear/  The  uncurling  of  the  wig  in  wet  weather 
is  compared  to  Alefto's  snaky  tresses  falling  at  the  music  of 
Orpheus,  or  Glaucus'  beard  '  clotted  and  straight  with  briny 
dew/  The  countryman,  bewildered  by  the  maze  of  London 
streets,  is  compared  to  Theseus  in  the  labyrinths  of  Crete,  or 
a  sailor  caught  between  Scylla  and  Charybdis.  Horses,  fling 
ing  mud  from  their  heels  as  they  strain  up  Ludgate  Hill,  are 
compared  to  the  Parthians  throwing  their  javelins  backward. 
Doll,  the  apple-woman,  drowned  while  crying  '  pippins '  on 
the  frozen  Thames,  becomes  the  severed  head  of  Orpheus 
floating  down  the  Heber  and  calling  for  Eurydice.  The  poet, 
forcing  his  way  through  the  crowd  in  search  of  a  lost  friend, 
is  Aeneas  seeking  Creusa  among  the  ruins  of  Troy,  or  Nisus 
returning  to  find  Euryalus.  The  beau,  overturned  from  his 
gilded  chariot  in  the  mud  by  the  dustman's  cart,  is  Phaethon 
hurled  down  to  the  under  world  by  the  lightning  of  Jove. 
The  parting  of  the  rabble  by  the  passage  of  a  coach  or  cart 
is  illustrated  by  the  division  of  Greeks  and  Trojans  by  the 
thunderbolts  of  Zeus.  The  walker  who  engages  in  a  street 
brawl  risks  the  fate  of  Laius  slain  by  Oedipus  where  three 
roads  met.  Matrons  trundled  down  Snow  Hill  in  hogsheads 
suggest  Regulus  in  his  legendary  barrel.  The  fireman  rescuing 
an  infant  from  the  flames  recalls  Aeneas  saving  Anchises  from 
the  ruins  of  Troy. 

The  language,  as  well  as  the  similes,  is  often  taken  from 
the  Latin  poets.    Atoms  of  dust  '  involve  the  skies/  and  snow 


is  *  the  gathering  fleece/  as  in  Virgil.  Birds  are  sensitive  to 
changes  of  weather,  c  not  that  their  minds  with  greater  skill 
are  fraught/  As  in  Ovid,  the  horses  on  the  frozen  Thames 
'wander  Roads  unstable,  not  their  own.'  As  in  Horace, e  Plenty 
pours  from  liberal  Horn  ';  and  the  man  who  first  ventured  to 
eat  the  living  oyster  had  'a  Palate  cover'd  o'er  with  Brass  or 
Steel/  Quid  non  ebrietas  designate  becomes  'What  will  not 
Lux'ry  taste?'  and  the  epilogue  beginning  '  And  now  compleat 
my  gen'rous  Labours  lye  '  parodies  the  Exegi  monumentum. 
Juvenal  suggests  the  couplet : 

When  in  long  Rank  a  Train  of  Torches  flame 
To  light  the  midnight  Visits  of  the  Dame. 

Gay's  style  lacks  the  c  energy '  of  Dryden  and  the  'correft- 
ness '  of  Pope.  He  is  loose,  careless,  and  slipshod,  but  his 
simple  realism  escapes  Pope's  temptation  to  sacrifice  truth  to 
antithesis  and  epigram.  He  calls  himself c  the  meanest  of  the 
Muses'  train/  The  Muse  of  Trivia,  as  he  describes  her  in  one 
of  his  Epistles,  is  shod  with  pattens,  and  draggled  with  walk 
ing  through  dirty  lanes  and  alleys.  A  frequent  blemish  is  the 
confusion  between  thou,  thy,  and  you,  your.  He  often  uses  them 
indiscriminately  in  the  same  paragraph,  as  in  Trivia,  I,  200-2: 

You  jostle  for  the  Wall ;  the  spatter'd  Mud 
Hides  all  thy  Hose  behind ;  in  vain  you  scow'r, 
Thy  Wig  alas!  uncurl'd  admits  the  ShowV. 

In  Rural  Sports  he  applies  you  and  your  to  Pope  in  the 
first  quatrain,  and  thy  and  thee  in  the  second. 

Though  we  are  told  by  one  of  his  editors  that,  whenever 
he  had  money  in  his  pocket,  Gay  '  preferred  the  ease  of  a 
coach  to  the  exertion  inseparable  from  walking/  we  should 
infer  from  Trivia  that  he  was  an  enthusiastic  walker.  In  the 
preface  he  deprecates  the  envy  of  the  critics  by  confessing 
that  he  '  walks  on  foot/  Rosy-complexion'd  health,  he  says, 
attends  the  steps  of  the  walker,  and  exercise  bestows  c  unartful 
charms '  on  the  glowing  oheeks  of  the  lady  who  trips  along 
the  town  on  foot.  While  coaches  disregard  the  appeal  of  orphan 
and  widow,  the  walker  is  moved  by  charity,  and  liberally 
relieves  the  lame  and  blind.  The  walker  escapes  rheumatism, 


r R  in  A 

jaundice,  asthma,  gout,  and  stone.  The  walker  may  loiter 
over  second-hand  book-stalls,  and  dip  into  Plutarch  s  Morals, 
or  Bacon's  Essays,  Venice  Preserved,  or  The  Rape  of  the  Lock. 
Yet  the  walker  has  his  dangers.  He  may  be  jostled  by  the 
elbows  of  the  crowd  against  the  posts  which  protefl  the  curb 
of  the  causeway,  or  caught  in  the  turnstile  and  beaten  to  the 
ground,  or  soused  with  the  offscourings  of  some  fish-stall. 

Gay  had  a  kindly  and  humane  disposition.  Though  an 
expert  angler  (he  gives  an  admirable  description  of  fly-fishing 
in  Rural  Sports,  highly  praised  by  Andrew  Lang),  he  would 
not  use  live  bait : 

Around  the  steel  no  tortur'd  worm  shall  twine, 
No  blood  of  living  insert  stain  my  line. 

And  yet  (unlike  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  who  c  could  not  find 
in  his  heart  to  murther  a  Creature  that  had  given  him  so 
much  Diversion'),  after  describing  with  apparent  gusto  how 
the  greyhound  '  tears  with  goary  mouth  the  screaming  prey,' 
he  can  exclaim,  c  What  various  sports  does  rural  life  afford ! ' 
In  Trivia  he  urges  that  the  due  civilities  of  the  street  should 
be  striftly  paid;  the  feeble  steps  of  trembling  age  must  not 
be  jostled;  the  porter  bending  beneath  his  load,  and  panting 
for  breath,  must  have  the  road  cleared  for  him;  the  groping 
blind  must  be  direfted,  and  the  lame  shielded  from  the  press 
ing  throng.  Barbarous  men  should  not  vent  their  rage  on  the 
generous  steed  that  earns  their  daily  bread;  Christmas  charity 
should  c  bid  meagre  want  uprear  her  sickly  head,  bid  shiver 
ing  limbs  be  warm  ' ;  the  crossing-sweeper  is  to  be  rewarded 
with  half-pence,  and  the  palsied  hand  of  old  age  is  not  to  be 
kept  waiting  for  alms;  those  who  pass  the  house  of  sickness 
should  breathe  a  prayer  that  their  fellow  creature  may  be 


AMONG  the  books  of  reference  consulted  in  preparing  the  notes  the 
following  have  been  found  especially  useful : 

T.  D'Urfey:   Collins  Walk  through  London  and  Westminster  (1690). 

The  Country  Gentleman's  Vade  Mecum  (1699). 

'The  Works  of  Mr.  Thomas  Brown,  Serious  and  Comical,  in  Prose  and 

Verse,  4  vols.  (1715). 

The  Art  of  Living  in  London,  ed.  2  (1793). 
Ashton :  Social  Life  in  the  Reign  of  ^ueen  Anne,  2  vols.  (1882). 
Wheatley  and  Cunningham:  London  Past  and  Present,  3  vols.  (1891). 
Wheatley :  Hogarttis  London  ( 1 909). 
Brand:  Popular  Antiquities,  ed.  Ellis,  3  vols.  (1890). 
Chambers:  Book  of  Days,  2  vols.  (1864). 
Walford:  Frost  Fairs  on  the  Thames  (1887). 
Andrews:  Famous  Frosts  and  Frost  Fairs  (1887). 
Chancellor:  Annals  of  Fleet  Street;  Annals  of  the  Strand  (1912). 


THE  text  of  the  present  edition  is  reprinted  from  the  first  edition  of  Trivia,  which 
was  published,  according  to  an  advertisement  in  the  Daily  Courant,  on  the  26th 
of  January,  1716.  A  second  edition,  without  date,  was  issued  apparently  soon 
after,  and  Trivia  was  included  in  the  sumptuous  quarto  edition  of  Gay's  Poems 
on  Several  Occasions,  published  in  two  volumes  by  Jacob  Tonson  and  Bernard 
Lintot  in  1720,  with  a  long  list  of  wealthy  and  distinguished  subscribers  prefixed. 
The  second  edition  (ed.  2)  and  the  Quarto  (j-^)  generally  agree  in  reading, 
spelling,  and  punctuation,  but  j^  sometimes  introduces  changes  of  its  own,  together 
with  a  few  new  readings :  such  as  gray-ey'd  for  blushing,  and  streaks  for  warms  (I, 
233),  Let  for  In  (II,  254),  and  a  for  the  (III,  56).  It  also  contains  an  addition  (II, 
99-220),  the  episode  of  the  genesis  of  the  shoe-black  from  a  scavenger  and  the 
goddess  Cloacina,  justly  condemned  by  Dr.  Johnson  as  c  nauseous  and  superfluous.' 
Ed.  2  and  j^  ormt  Part  of  the  Advertisement  and  the  Errata.  In  ed.  I  and  j^ 
proper  nouns  are  printed  in  italics,  but  when  they  are  in  the  possessive  case  the 
suffix  is  in  roman.  Ed.  i  uses  initial  capitals  for  nouns,  ed.  2  and  j^  lower-case 
letters.  In  the  marginal  notes  ed.  2  uses  capitals  for  nouns,  j^,  omits  the  marginal 
notes,  but  occasionally  inserts  the  note  at  the  foot  of  the  page.  On  the  whole 
ed.  2  is  printed  worse  than  ed.  I  and  J^.  It  contains  some  rather  bad  misprints, 
not  found  in  the  other  two  texts,  e.g.,  spoil's  (I,  50),  tailing  (I,  no),  straight 
(I,  206),  riding-hoods  (I,  21  o),  stone's  (II,  402),  bacon  (II,  438),  semptresses  (II, 
441).  But  ed.  2  sometimes  corrects  the  mistakes  of  ed.  I,  as  Chariots  (I,  116), 
Not  (II,  1 80),  and  Jove  (II,  413).  In  a  few  cases  .9  corrects  ed.  I  and  ed.  2,  as 
Gondola's  (I,  98),  and  Naples  (I,  93). 



r  •  \HE  World)  I  believe,  will  take  so  little  Notice 
|  of  me,  that  I  need  not  take  much  of  it.  The 
JL  Criticks  may  see  by  this  Poem,  that  I  walk  on 
Foot,  which  probably  may  save  me  from  their  Envy. 
I  should  be  sorry  to  raise  that  Passion  in  Men  whom  $ 
I  am  so  much  obliged  to,  since  they  allowed  me  an 
Honour  hitherto  only  shown  to  better  Writers:  That 
of  denying  me  to  be  the  Author  of  my  own  Works.  I 
am  sensible  this  must  be  done  in  pure  Generosity ; 
because  whoever  writ  them,  provided  they  did  not  I0 
themselves,  they  are  still  in  the  same  Condition. 

Gentlemen,  If  there  be  any  thing  in  this  Poem,  good 
enough  to  displease  you,  and  if  it  be  any  Advantage 
to  you  to  ascribe  it  to  some  Person  of  greater  Merit  > 
I  shall  acquaint  you  for  your  Comfort,  that  among  *5 
many  other  Obligations,  I  owe  several  Hints  of  it 
to  Dr.  Swift.  And  if  you  will  so  far  continue  your 
Favour  as  to  write  against  it,  I  beg  you  to  oblige 
me  in  accepting  the  following  Motto. 

— Non  tu,  in  Triviis,  Indo&e,  solebas  20 

Stidenti,  miserum,  stipula,  disperdere  Carmen  ? 


PAGE  35.  Line  8.  [23.  10  present  edition]  instead  of  around  the  Square,  read 
along  the  Square.  Page  38.  Line  14.  [25.  5]  instead  of  Clouds  roll  on,  read 
Clouds  move  on.    Page  50.  Line  9.  [31.  21]  instead  of  tinsilled  Slaves,  read  tin- 
sell'd  Slaves. 



BOOK    I    5  : 

Of  the  Implements  for  walking  the  Streets^  and 
Signs  of  the  Weather. 


THROUGH    Winter    Streets    to    steer    your 

Course  aright, 

How  to  walk  clean  by  Day,  and  safe  by  Night, 
How  jostling  Crouds,  with  Prudence,  to  decline, 
When  to  assert  the  Wall,  and  when  resign, 
I  sing :  Thou  Trivia,  Goddess,  aid  my  Song,          5 
Thro'  spacious  Streets  condud:  thy  Bard  along; 
By  thee  transported,  I  securely  stray 
Where  winding  Alleys  lead  the  doubtful  Way, 
The  silent  Court,  and  op'ning  Square  explore, 
And  long  perplexing  Lanes  untrod  before.  10 

To  pave  thy  Realm,  and  smooth  the  broken  Ways, 
Earth  from  her  Womb  a  flinty  Tribute  pays; 
For  thee,  the  sturdy  Pavior  thumps  the  Ground, 
Whilst  ev'ry  Stroke  his  lab'ring  Lungs  resound; 
For  thee,  the  Scavinger  bids  Kennels  glide  15 

Within  their  Bounds,  and  Heaps  of  Dirt  subside, 


My  youthful  Bosom  burns  with  Thirst  of  Fame, 
From  the  great  Theme  to  build  a  glorious  Name, 
To  tread  in  Paths  to  ancient  Bards  unknown, 
And  bind  my  Temples  with  a  Civic  Crown;  20 

But  more,  my  Country's  Love  demands  the  Lays, 
My  Country's  be  the  Profit,  mine  the  Praise. 

When  the  Black  Youth  at  chosen  Stands  rejoice, 
And  clean  your  Shoes  resounds  from  ev'ry  Voice; 
When  late  their  miry  Sides  Stage-Coaches  show,     25 
And  their  stiff  Horses  thro'  the  Town  move  slow ; 
When  all  the  Mall  in  leafy  Ruin  lies, 
And  Damsels  first  renew  their  Oyster  Cries : 
Then  let  the  prudent  Walker  Shoes  provide, 
Not  of  the  Spanish  or  Morocco  Hide  ;  30 

The  wooden  Heel  may  raise  the  Dancer's  Bound, 
And  with  the  'scallop'd  Top  his  Step  be  crown'd : 
Let  firm,  well-hammer'd  Soles  protect  thy  Feet 
Thro'  freezing  Snows,  and  Rains,  and  soaking  Sleet. 
Should  the  big  Laste  extend  the  Shoe  too  wide,      35 
Each  Stone  will  wrench  th'  unwary  Step  aside : 
The  sudden  Turn  may  stretch  the  swelling  Vein, 
Thy  cracking  Joint  unhinge,  or  Ankle  sprain ; 
And  when  too  short  the  modish  Shoes  are  worn, 
You'll  judge  the  Seasons  by  your  shooting  Corn.    40 

Nor  should  it  prove  thy  less  important  Care, 
To  chuse  a  proper  Coat  for  Winter's  Wear. 
Now  in  thy  Trunk  thy  Doily  Habit  fold, 
The  silken  Drugget  ill  can  fence  the  Cold ; 
The  Frieze's  spongy  Nap  is  soak'd  with  Rain,        45 


And  Show'rs  soon  drench  the  Camlet's  cockled  Grain. 
True  Witney  Broad-cloath  with  it's  Shag  unshorn, 
Unpierc'd  is  in  the  lasting  Tempest  worn  : 
Be  this  the  Horse-man's  Fence;  for  who  would  wear 
Amid  the  Town  the  Spoils  of  Russia's  Bear?  50 

Within  the  Roquelaures  Clasp  thy  Hands  are  pent, 
Hands,  that  stretch'd  forth  invading  Harms  prevent. 
Let  the  loop'd  Bavaroy  the  Fop  embrace, 
Or  his  deep  Cloak  be  spatter'd  o'er  with  Lace. 
That  Garment  best  the  Winter's  Rage  defends,       55 
Whose  shapeless  Form  in  ample  Plaits  depends; 
By  *  various  Names  in  various  Counties  known, 
Yet  held  in  all  the  true  Surtout  alone : 
Be  thine  of  Kersey  firm,  though  small  the  Cost, 
Then  brave  unwet  the  Rain,  unchill'd  the  Frost.    60 

If  the  strong  Cane  support  thy  walking  Hand, 
Chairmen  no  longer  shall  the  Wall  command; 
Ev'n  sturdy  Car-men  shall  thy  Nod  obey, 
And  rattling  Coaches  stop  to  make  thee  Way: 
This  shall  direct  thy  cautious  Tread  aright,  65 

Though  not  one  glaring  Lamp  enliven  Night. 
Let  Beaus  their  Canes  with  Amber  tipt  produce, 
Be  theirs  for  empty  Show,  but  thine  for  Use. 
'  In  gilded  Chariots  while  they  loll  at  Ease, 
And  lazily  insure  a  Life's  Disease ;  70 

While  softer  Chairs  the  tawdry  Load  convey 
To  Court,  to  White^  Assemblies,  or  the  Play; 
Rosie-complexion'd  Health  thy  Steps  attends, 
And  Exercise  thy  lasting  Youth  defends. 

*  A  Joseph,  a  Wraf -Rascal^  &c. 

6  <T  R  I  r  I  A 

Imprudent  Men  Heav'ns  choicest  Gifts  prophane.  75 
Thus  some  beneath  their  Arm  support  the  Cane; 
The  dirty  Point  oft  checks  the  careless  Pace, 
And  miry  Spots  thy  clean  Cravat  disgrace : 
O!  may  I  never  such  Misfortune  meet, 
May  no  such  vicious  Walkers  croud  the  Street,      80 
May  Providence  o'er-shade  me  with  her  Wings, 
While  the  bold  Muse  experienc'd  Dangers  sings. 

Not  that  I  wander  from  my  native  Home, 
And  tempting  Perils  foreign  Cities  roam. 
Let  Taris  be  the  Theme  of  Gallias  Muse,  85 

Where  Slav'ry  treads  the  Streets  in  wooden  Shoes; 
Nor  do  I  rove  in  TSelgicis  frozen  Clime, 
And  teach  the  clumsy  Boor  to  skate  in  Rhyme, 
Where,  if  the  warmer  Clouds  in  Rain  descend, 
No  miry  Ways  industrious  Steps  offend,  90 

The  rushing  Flood  from  sloping  Pavements  pours, 
And  blackens  the  Canals  with  dirty  Show'rs. 
Let  others  Naples  smoother  Streets  rehearse, 
And  with  proud  Roman  Structures  grace  their  Verse, 
Where  frequent  Murders  wake  the  Night  with  Groans, 
And  Blood  in  purple  Torrents  dies  the  Stones  ;      96 
Nor  shall  the  Muse  through  narrow  Venice  stray, 
Where  Gondolas  their  painted  Oars  display. 
O  happy  Streets  to  rumbling  Wheels  unknown, 
No  Carts,  no  Coaches  shake  the  floating  Town!  100 
Thus  was  of  old  "Britannia^  City  bless'd, 
E'er  Pride  and  Luxury  her  Sons  possessed : 
Coaches  and  Chariots  yet  unfashion'd  lay, 
Nor  late  invented  Chairs  perplex'd  the  Way : 

RiriA  7 

Then  the  proud  Lady  trip'd  along  the  Town,       105 
And  tuck'd  up  Petticoats  secur'd  her  Gown, 
Her  rosie  Cheek  with  distant  Visits  glow'd, 
And  Exercise  unartful  Charms  bestow'd; 
But  since  in  braided  Gold  her  Foot  is  bound, 
And  a  long  trailing  Manteau  sweeps  the  Ground,    1 10 
Her  Shoe  disdains  the  Street;  the  lazy  Fair, 
With  narrow  Step  affefts  a  limping  Air. 
j&  Now  gaudy  Pride  corrupts  the  lavish  Age, 

And  the  Streets  flame  with  glaring  Equipage ; 
\    The  tricking  Gamester  insolently  rides,  115 

With  Loves  and  Graces  on  his  Chariots  Sides ; 
In  sawcy  State  the  griping  Broker  sits, 
And  laughs  at  Honesty,  and  trudging  Wits : 
For  you,  O  honest  Men,  these  useful  Lays 
The  Muse  prepares ;   I  seek  no  other  Praise.  1 20 

When  Sleep  is  first  disturbed  by  Morning  Cries ; 
From  sure  Prognosticks  learn  to  know  the  Skies, 
Lest  you  of  Rheums  and  Coughs  at  Night  complain; 
Surpriz'd  in  dreary  Fogs,  or  driving  Rain. 
When  suffocating  Mists  obscure  the  Morn,  125 

Let  thy  worst  Wig,  long  us'd  to  Storms,  be  worn; 
This  knows  the  powder'd  Footman,  and  with  Care, 
Beneath  his  flapping  Hat,  secures  his  Hair. 
Be  thou,  for  ev'ry  Season  justly  drest, 
Nor  brave  the  piercing  Frost  with  open  Breast;    130 
And  when  the  bursting  Clouds  a  Deluge  pour, 
Let  thy  Surtout  defend  the  drenching  Show'r. 

The  changing  Weather  certain  Signs  reveal. 


E'er  Winter  sheds  her  Snow,  or  Frosts  congeal, 
You'll  see  the  Coals  in  brighter  Flame  aspire,       135 
And  Sulphur  tinge  with  blue  the  rising  Fire : 
?Your  tender  Shins  the  scorching  Heat  decline, 
And  at  the  Dearth  of  Coals  the  Poor  repine ; 
Before  her  Kitchin  Hearth,  the  nodding  Dame 
In  Flannel  Mantle  wrapt,  enjoys  the  Flame;          140 
Hov'ring,  upon  her  feeble  Knees  she  bends, 
And  all  around  the  grateful  Warmth  ascends. 

Nor  do  less  certain  Signs  the  Town  advise, 
Of  milder  Weather,  and  serener  Skies. 
The  Ladies  gayly  dress'd,  the  Mall  adorn  145 

With  various  Dyes,  and  paint  the  sunny  Morn; 
The  wanton  Fawns  with  frisking  Pleasure  range, 
And  chirping  Sparrows  greet  the  welcome  Change : 
Not  that  their  Minds  with  greater  Skill  are  fraught, 
Endu'd  by  Instindt,  or  by  Reason  taught,  150 

The  Seasons  operate  on  every  Breast; 
?Tis  hence  that  Fawns  are  brisk,  and  Ladies  drest. 
When  on  his  Box  the  nodding  Coachman  snores, 
And  dreams  of  fancy'd  Fares;  when  Tavern  Doors 
The  Chairmen  idly  croud;  then  ne'er  refuse         155 
To  trust  thy  busy  Steps  in  thinner  Shoes. 


But  when  the  swinging  Signs  your  Ears  offend 
With  creaking  Noise,  then  rainy  Floods  impend; 
Soon  shall  the  Kennels  swell  with  rapid  Streams, 
And  rush  in  muddy  Torrents  to  the  Thames.        160 
The  Bookseller,  whose  Shop's  an  open  Square, 
Foresees  the  Tempest,  and  with  early  Care 


Of  Learning  strips  the  Rails ;  the  rowing  Crew 
To  tempt  a  Fare,  cloath  all  their  Tilts  in  Blue  : 
On  Hosier's  Poles  depending  Stockings  ty'd,         165 
Flag  with  the  slacken'd  Gale,  from  side  to  side ; 
Church-Monuments  foretell  the  changing  Air; 
Then  ^How  dissolves  into  a  Tear, 
And  sweats  with  secret  Grief;  you'll  hear  the  Sounds 
Of  whistling  Winds, e'er  Kennels  break  their  Bounds; 
fUngrateful  Odours  Common-shores  diffuse,  171 

And  dropping  Vaults  distil  unwholesom  Dews, 
E'er  the  Tiles  rattle  with  the  smoaking  Show'r, 
And  Spouts  on  heedless  Men  their  Torrents  pour. 

All  Superstition  from  thy  Breast  repel.  175 

Let  cred'lous  Boys,  and  prattling  Nurses  tell, 
How,  if  the  Festival  of  ^au/bt  clear, 
Plenty  from  lib'ral  Horn  shall  strow  the  Year ; 
When  the  dark  Skies  dissolve  in  Snows  or  Rain, 
The  lab'ring  Hind  shall  yoke  the  Steer  in  vain  ;   180 
But  if  the  threatning  Winds  in  Tempests  roar, 
Then  War  shall  bathe  her  wasteful  Sword  in  Gore. 
How,  if  on  Swithirfs  Feast  the  Welkin  lours, 
And  ev'ry  Penthouse  streams  with  hasty  Show'rs, 
Twice  twenty  Days  shall  Clouds  their  Fleeces  drain, 
And  wash  the  Pavements  with  incessant  Rain.       186 
Let  not  such  vulgar  Tales  debase  thy  Mind; 
Nor  Taul  nor  Swithin  rule  the  Clouds  and  Wind. 


If  you  the  Precepts  of  the  Muse  despise, 
And  slight  the  faithful  Warnings  of  the  Skies,       190 
Others  you'll  see,  when  all  the  Town's  afloat, 


R ir I A 

Wrapt  in  th'  Embraces  of  a  Kersey  Coat, 

Or  double-button'd  Freize;  their  guarded  Feet 

Defie  the  muddy  Dangers  of  the  Street, 

While  you,  with  Hat  unloop'd,  the  Fury  dread    195 

Of  Spouts  high-streaming,  and  with  cautious  Tread 

Shun  ev'ry  dashing  Pool;  or  idly  stop, 

To  seek  the  kind  Protection  of  a  Shop. 

But  Bus'ness  summons;  Now  with  hasty  Scud 

You  jostle  for  the  Wall;  the  spatter'd  Mud  200 

Hides  all  thy  Hose  behind;  in  vain  you  scow'r, 

Thy  Wig  alas!  uncurFd,  admits  the  Show'r. 

So  fierce  Aleftds  snaky  Tresses  fell, 

When    Orpheus  charm'd   the    rig'rous   Pow'rs    of 


Or  thus  hung  Glaucus  Beard,  with  briny  Dew     205 
Clotted  and  strait,  when  first  his  am'rous  View 
Surprised  the  bathing  Fair ;  the  frighted  Maid 
Now  stands  a  Rock,  transformed  by  Circes  Aid. 

Good  Huswives  all  the  Winter's  Rage  despise, 
Defended  by  the  Riding-hood's  Disguise;  210 

Or  underneath  th'  Umbrellas  oily  Shed, 
Safe  thro'  the  Wet  on  clinking  Pattens  tread. 
Let  Tersian  Dames  th5  Umbrellas  Ribs  display, 
To  guard  their  Beauties  from  the  sunny  Ray; 
Or  sweating  Slaves  support  the  shady  Load,          215 
When  Eastern  Monarchs  shew  their  State  abroad ; 
Britain  in  Winter  only  knows  its  Aid, 
To  guard  from  chilly  Show'rs  the  walking  Maid. 
But,  O !  forget  not,  Muse,  the  Tat  ten's  Praise, 
That  female  Implement  shall  grace  thy  Lays  j       220 





R  I  r  I A  ii 

Say  from  what  Art  Divine  th'  Invention  came, 
And  from  its  Origine  deduce  the  Name. 

Where  Lincoln  wide  extends  her  fenny  Soil, 

'  A  goodly  Yeoman  liv'd  grown  white  with  Toil; 
One  only  Daughter  blest  his  nuptial  Bed,  225 

Who  from  her  infant  Hand  the  Poultry  fed: 
Martha  (her  careful  Mother's  Name)  she  bore, 
But  now  her  careful  Mother  was  no  more. 
Whilst  on  her  Father's  Knee  the  Damsel  play'd, 
Tatty  he  fondly  calPd  the  smiling  Maid;  230 

As  Years  increas'd,  her  ruddy  Beauty  grew, 
And  Pattys  Fame  o'er  all  the  Village  flew. 

Soon  as  the  blushing  Morning  warms  the  Skies, 
And  in  the  doubtful  Day  the  Woodcock  flies, 
Her  cleanly  Pail  the  pretty  Huswife  bears,  235 

And  singing  to  the  distant  Field  repairs: 
And  when  the  Plains  with  ev'ning  Dews  are  spread, 
The  milky  Burthen  smoaks  upon  her  Head. 
Deep,  thro'  a  miry  Lane  she  pick'd  her  Way, 
Above  her  Ankle  rose  the  chalky  Clay.  240 

Vulcan^  by  chance  the  bloomy  Maiden  spies, 
With  Innocence  and  Beauty  in  her  Eyes, 
T  He  saw,  he  lov'd ;  for  yet  he  ne'er  had  known 
Sweet  Innocence  and  Beauty  meet  in  One. 
Ah  Mulciber!  recall  thy  nuptial  Vows,  245 

Think  on  the  Graces  of  thy  Taphian  Spouse, 
Think  how  her  Eyes  dart  inexhausted  Charms, 
And  canst  thou  leave  her  Bed  for  Tatty\  Arms? 

12  r K  ir i A 

The  Lemnian  Pow'r  forsakes  the  Realms  above, 
His  Bosom  glowing  with  terrestrial  Love:  250 

Far  in  the  Lane,  a  lonely  Hut  he  found, 
No  Tenant  ventur'd  on  th'  unwholesome  Ground. 
Here  smoaks  his  Forge,  he  bares  his  sinewy  Arm, 
And  early  Strokes  the  sounding  Anvil  warm; 
Around  his  Shop  the  steely  Sparkles  flew,  255 

As  for  the  Steed  he  shap'd  the  bending  Shoe. 

When  blue-ey'd  Patty  near  his  Window  came, 
His  Anvil  rests,  his  Forge  forgets  to  flame. 
To  hear  his  soothing  Tales,  she  feigns  Delays ; 
What  Woman  can  resist  the  Force  of  Praise?       260 

At  first  she  coyly  ev'ry  Kiss  withstood, 
And  all  her  Cheek  was  flush'd  with  modest  Blood: 

With  headless  Nails  he  now  surrounds  her  Shoes, 

/  * 

To  save  her  Steps  from  Rains  and  piercing  Dews; 
She  lik'd  his  soothing  Tales,  his  Presents  wore,    265 
And  granted  Kisses,  but  would  grant  no  more. 
Yet  Winter  chill'd  her  Feet,  with  Cold  she  pines, 
And  on  her  Cheek  the  fading  Rose  declines ; 
No  more  her  humid  Eyes  their  Lustre  boast, 
And  in  hoarse  Sounds  her  melting  Voice  is  lost.   270 

This  Vulcan  saw,  and  in  his  heav'nly  Thought, 
A  new  Machine  Mechanick  Fancy  wrought, 
Above  the  Mire  her  shelter'd  steps  to  raise, 
And  bear  her  safely  through  the  Wintry  Ways. 
Strait  the  new  Engine  on  his  Anvil  glows,  275 

And  the  pale  Virgin  on  the  Patten  rose. 

r R  i r  i  A 

No  more  her  Lungs  are  shook  with  dropping  Rheums, 
And  on  her  Cheek  reviving  Beauty  blooms. 
The  God  obtain'd  his  Suit,  though  Flatt'ry  fail, 
Presents  with  Female  Virtue  must  prevail.  280 

The  Patten  now  supports  each  frugal  Dame, 
Which  from  the  blue-ey'd  Tatty  takes  the  Name. 

si##' .  _ 










T  R  I  F  I 

J         BOOK    II 

Of  Walking  the  Streets  by  Day. 

far  the  Muse  has  trac'd  in  useful  Lays, 
The  proper  Implements  for  Wintry  Ways; 
Has  taught  the  Walker,  with  judicious  Eyes, 
To  read  the  various  Warnings  of  the  Skies. 
Now  venture,  Muse,  from  Home  to  range  the  Town, 
And  for  the  publick  Safety  risque  thy  own.  6 

For  Ease  and  for  Dispatch,  the  Morning's  best: 
No  Tides  of  Passengers  the  Street  molest. 
You'll  see  a  draggl'd  Damsel,  here  and  there, 
From  Billingsgate  her  fishy  Traffick  bear;  10 

On  Doors  the  sallow  Milk-maid  chalks  her  Gains; 
Ah!  how  unlike  the  Milk-maid  of  the  Plains! 
Before  proud  Gates  attending  Asses  bray, 
Or  arrogate  with  solemn  Pace  the  Way; 
These  grave  Physicians  with  their  milky  Chear,      15 
The  Love-sick  Maid,  and  dwindling  Beau  repair  ; 
Here  Rows  of  Drummers  stand  in  martial  File, 
And  with  their  Vellom-Thunder  shake  the  Pile, 
To  greet  the  new-made  Bride.   Are  Sounds  like  these, 


16  5T  RI '  r  I A 

The  proper  Prelude  to  a  State  of  Peace?  20 

Now  Industry  awakes  her  busy  Sons, 
Full  charg'd  with  News  the  breathless  Hawker  runs: 
Shops  open,  Coaches  roll,  Carts  shake  the  Ground, 
And  all  the  Streets  with  passing  Cries  resound. 


If  cloath'd  in  Black,  you  tread  the  busy  Town,    25 
Or  if  distinguish'd  by  the  rev'rend  Gown, 
|  Three  Trades  avoid;  loft'  in  the  mingling  Press, 
The  Barbers  Apron  soils  the  sable  Dress; 
Shun  the  Perfumers  Touch  with  cautious  Eye, 
Nor  let  the  Bakers  Step  advance  too  nigh:  30 

Ye  Walkers  too  that  youthful  Colours  wear, 
Three  sullying  Trades  avoid]  with  equal  Care; 
The  little  Chimney-sweeper  skulks  along, 
And  marks  with  sooty  Stains  the  heedless  Throng ; 
When  Small-coal  murmurs  in  the  hoarser  Throat,   35 
From  smutty  Dangers  guard  thy  threaten'd  Coat: 
The  Dust-mans  Cart  offends  thy  Cloaths  and  Eyes, 
When  through  the  Street  a  Cloud  of  Ashes  flies ; 
But  whether  Black,  or  lighter  Dyes  are  worn, 
The  Chandlers  Basket,  on  hi^s  Shoulder  born,        49 
With  Tallow  spots  thy  Coat;  resign  the  Way,' 
To  shun  the  surly  Butchers  greasy  Tray, 
Butchers,  whose  Hands  are  dy'd  with  Blood's  foul 

And  always  foremost  in  the  Hangman's  Train. 

Let  due  Civilities  be  stridly  paid.  45 

The  Wall  surrender  to  the  hooded  Maid ; 
Nor  let  thy  sturdy  Elbow's  hasty  Rage 

r  R  i  ~r  i  A 


Jostle  the  feeble  Steps  of  trembling  Age: 
And  when  the  Porter  bends  beneath  his  Load, 
And  pants  for  Breath  ;  clear  thou  the  crouded  Road. 
But  above  all,  the  groaping  Blind  direft,  51 

And  from  the  pressing  Throng  the  Lame  protect. 
You'll  sometimes  meet  a  Fop,  of  nicest  Tread, 
Whose  mantling  Peruke  veils  his  empty  Head, 
At  ev'ry  Step  he  dreads  the  Wall  to  lose,  55 

And  risques,  to  save  a  Coach,  his  red-heel'd  Shoes; 
Him,  like  the  Miller  ^  pass  with  Caution  by, 
Lest  from  his  Shoulder  Clouds  of  Powder  fly. 
But  when  the  Bully,  with  assuming  Pace, 
Cocks  his  broad  Hat,  edg'd  round  with  tarnish'd  Lace, 
/Yield  not  the  Way;  defie  his  strutting  Pride,!       61 
___  J^And  thrust  him  to  the  muddy  Kennel's  side; 
He  never  turns  again,  nor  dares  oppose, 
But  mutters  coward  Curses  as  he  goes. 


If  drawn  by  Bus'ness  to  a  Street  unknown,         65 
Let  the  sworn  Porter  point  thee  through  the  Town; 
Be  sure  observe  the  Signs,  for  Signs  remain, 
Like  faithful  Land-marks  to  the  walking  Train. 
Seek  not  from  Prentices  to  learn  the  Way, 
Those  fabling  Boys  will  turn  thy  Steps  astray;        70 
Ask  the  grave  Tradesman  to  dire&  thee  right, 
I  He  ne'er  deceives,  but  when  he  profits  by't. 

Where  fam'd  Saint  Giles's  ancient  Limits  spread, 
An  inrail'd  Column  rears  its  lofty  Head, 
Here  to  sev'n  Streets,  sev'n  Dials  count  the  Day,  75 
And  from  each  other  catch  the  circling  Ray. 



Here  oft  the  Peasant,  with  enquiring  Face, 
Bewilder'd,  trudges  on  from  Place  to  Place; 
He  dwells  on  ev'ry  Sign,  with  stupid  Gaze, 
Enters  the  narrow  Alley's  doubtful  Maze,  80 

Trys  ev'ry  winding  Court  and  Street  in  vain, 
And  doubles  o'er  his  weary  Steps  again. 
Thus  hardy  Theseus,  with  intrepid  Feet, 
Travers'd  the  dang'rous  Labyrinth  of  Crete-, 
But  still  the  wandring  Passes  forc'd  his  Stay,          85 
Till  Ariadnes  Clue  unwinds  the  Way. 
But  do  not  thou,  like  that  bold  Chief,  confide 
Thy  ventrous  Footsteps  to  a  female  Guide; 
She'll  lead  thee,  with  delusive  Smiles  along, 
^  Dive  in  thy  Fob,  and  drop  thee  in  the  Throng.  ^  90 

When  waggish  Boys  the  stunted  Beesom  ply, 
To  rid  the  slabby  Pavement;  pass  not  by 
E'er   thou   hast    held    their  Hands;    some  heedless 


Will  over-spread  thy  Calves  with  spatt'ring  Dirt. 
Where  Porters  Hogsheads  roll  from  Carts  aslope,  95 
Or  Brewers  down  steep  Cellars  stretch  the  Rope, 
Where  counted  Billets  are  by  Carmen  tost; 
Stay  thy  rash  Steps,  and  walk  without  the  Post. 

Where  elevated  o'er  the  gaping  Croud, 
Clasp'd  in  the  Board  the  perjur'd  Head  is  bow'd,    100 
Betimes  retreat;  here,  thick  as  Hail-stones  pour, 
Turnips,  and  half-hatch'd  Eggs,  (a  mingled  Show'r) 
Among  the  Rabble  rain :   Some  random  Throw 
May  with  the  trickling  Yolk  thy  Cheek  overflow. 


T  R  I  r  I A 

Though  Expedition  bids,  yet  never  stray  105 

Where  no  rang'd  Posts  defend  the  rugged  Way. 
Here  laden  Carts  with  thundring  Waggons  meet, 
Wheels  clash  with  Wheels,  and  bar  the  narrow  Street; 
The  lashing  Whip  resounds,  the  Horses  strain, 
And  Blood  in  Anguish  bursts  the  swelling  Vein,  no 
O  barb'rous  Men,  your  cruel  Breasts  asswage, 
Why  vent  ye  on  the  gen'rous  Steed  your  Rage? 
Does  not  his  Service  earn  your  daily  Bread  ? 
Your  Wives,  your  Children,  by  his  Labours  fed! 
If,  as  the  Samian  taught,  the  Soul  revives,  1 1 5 

And  shifting  Seats,  in  other  Bodies  lives; 
Severe  shall  be  the  brutal  Coachman's  Change, 
Doom'd,  in  a  Hackney  Horse,  the  Town  to  range: 
Carmen,  transfer  m'd,  the  groaning  Load  shall  draw, 
Whom  other  Tyrants,  with  the  Lash,  shall  awe.    120 

Who  would  of  Catling-street  the  Dangers  share, 
When  the  broad  Pavement  of  Cheap-side  is  near? 
Or  who  *  that  rugged  Street  would  traverse  o'er, 
That  stretches,  O  Fleet-ditch,  from  thy  black  Shore 
To  the  Towrs  moated  Walls  ?/Here  Steams  ascend 
That,  in  mix'd  Fumes,  the  wrinkled  Nose  offend.  126 
Where  Chandlers  Cauldrons  boil;  where  fishy  Prey 
Hide  the  wet  Stall,  long  absent  from  the  Sea; 
And  where  the  Cleaver  chops  the  Heifer's  Spoil, 
And  where  huge  Hogsheads  sweat  with  trainy  Oil, 
Thy  breathing  Nostril  hold;  but  how  shall  I        131 
Pass,  where  in  Piles  t  Cornavian  Cheeses  lye; 

*  Thames-street. 

f  Cheshire  anciently  so  called. 


Cheese,  that  the  Table's  closing  Rites  denies, 
And  bids  me  with  th'  unwilling  Chaplain  rise. 

O  bear  me  to  the  Paths  of  fair  Pell-mell^  135 

Safe  are  thy  Pavements,  grateful  is  thy  Smell ! 
At  distance,  rolls  along  the  gilded  Coach, 
Nor  sturdy  Carmen  on  thy  Walks  encroach; 
No  Lets  would  bar  thy  Ways,  were  Chairs  deny'd, 
The  soft  Supports  of  Laziness  and  Pride;  140 

Shops  breathe  Perfumes,  thro'  Sashes  Ribbons  glow, 
The  mutual  Arms  of  Ladies,  and  the  Beau. 
Yet  still  ev'n  Here,  when  Rains  the  Passage  hide, 
Oft*  the  loose  Stone  spirts  up  a  muddy  Tide 
Beneath  thy  careless  Foot;  and  from  on  high,      145 
Where  Masons  mount  the  Ladder,  Fragments  fly; 
Mortar,  and  crumbled  Lime  in  Show'rs  descend, 
And  o'er  thy  Head  destructive  Tiles  impend. 

But  sometimes  let  me  leave  the  noisie  Roads, 
And  silent  wander  in  the  close  Abodes  150 

Where  Wheels  ne'er  shake  the  Ground;  there  pensive 


In  studious  Thought,  the  long  uncrouded  Way. 
Here  I  remark  each  Walker's  diff'rent  Face, 
And  in  their  Look  their  various  Bus'ness  trace. 
The  Broker  here  his  spacious  Beaver  wears,  155 

Upon  his  Brow  sit  Jealousies  and  Cares; 
Bent  on  some  Mortgage,  to  avoid  Reproach, 
He  seeks  bye  Streets,  and  saves  th'  expensive  Coach. 
Soft,  at  low  Doors,  old  Letchers  tap  their  Cane, 
For  fair  Recluse^  that  travels  Drury-lane,  160 

T  R  i  r  i  A  21 

Here  roams  uncomb'd,  the  lavish  Rake,  to  shun 
His  Fleet -street  Draper's  everlasting  Dun. 

Careful  Observers,  studious  of  the  Town, 
Shun  the  Misfortunes  that  disgrace  the  Clown. 
Untempted,  they  contemn  the  Jugler's  Feats,        165 
Pass  by  the  Meuse^  nor  try  the  *  Thimble's  Cheats. 
When  Drays  bound  high,  they  never  cross  behind, 
Where  bubbling  Yest  is  blown  by  Gusts  of  Wind : 
And  when  up  Ludgate-hill  huge  Carts  move  slow, 
iFar  from  the  straining  Steeds,  securely  go,  170 

Whose  dashing  Hoofs,  behind  them,  fling  the  Mire, 
And  mark,  with  muddy  Blots,  the  gazing  'Squire. 
The  Tartbian  thus  his  Jav'lin  backward  throws, 
And  as  he  flies,  infests  pursuing  Foes.  174 

The  thoughtless  Wits  shall  frequent  Forfeits  pay, 
I    Who  'gainst  the  Gentry's  Box  discharge  their  Tea. 
j    Do  thou  some  Court,  or  secret  Corner  seek, 
Nor  flush  with  Shame  the  passing  Virgin's  Cheek. 

Yet  let  me  not  descend  to.  trivial  Song, 
I    Not  vulgar  Circumstance  my  Verse  prolong;         180 
Why  should  I  teach  the  Maid  when  Torrents  pour, 
Her  Head  to  shelter  from  the  sudden  Show'r  ? 
Nature  will  best  her  ready  Hand  inform, 
With  her  spread  Petticoat  to  fence  the  Storm. 
Does  not  each  Walker  know  the  warning  Sign,    185 
When  Wisps  of  Straw  depend  upon  the  Twine 

*  A  Cheat)  commonly  pratlicd  in  the  Street  s^  with  three  Thimbles  and 
a  little  Ball. 


?  R  i  r  i  A 

Cross  the  close  Street ;  that  then  the  Pavior's  Art 
Renews  the  Ways,  deny'd  to  Coach  and  Cart? 
Who  knows  not,  that  the  Coachman  lashing  by, 
Oft',  with  his  Flourish,  cuts  the  heedless  Eye;       190 
And  when  he  takes  his  Stand,  to  wait  a  Fare, 
His  Horses  Foreheads  shun  the  Winter's  Air  ? 
Nor  will  I  roam,  when  Summer's  sultry  Rays 
Parch  the  dry  Ground,  and  spread  with  Dust  the  Ways ; 
With  whirling  Gusts,  the  rapid  Atoms  rise,  195 

Smoak  o'er  the  Pavement,  and  involve  the  Skies. 

Winter  my  Theme  confines;  whose  nitry  Wind 
Shall  crust  the  slabby  Mire,  and  Kennels  bind ; 
She  bids  the  Snow  descend  in  flaky  Sheets, 
And  in  her  hoary  Mantle  cloath  the  Streets.         200 
Let  not  the  Virgin  tread  these  slipp'ry  Roads, 
The  gath'ring  Fleece  the  hollow  Patten  loads ; 
But  if  thy  Footsteps  slide  with  clotted  Frost, 
Strike  off  the  breaking  Balls  against  the  Post. 
On  silent  Wheel  the  passing  Coaches  roll ;  205 

Oft5  look  behind  and  ward  the  threatning  Pole. 
In  harden'd  Orbs  the  School-boy  moulds  the  Snow, 
To  mark  the  Coachman  with  a  dextrous  Throw. 
Why  do  ye,  Boys,  the  Kennel's  Surface  spread, 
To  tempt  with  faithless  Pass  the  Matron's  Tread  ? 
How  can  ye  Laugh,  to  see  the  Damsel  spurn,       2 1 1 
Sink  in  your  Frauds  and  her  green  Stocking  mourn? 
At  Wbite\  the  harness'd  Chairman  idly  stands, 
And  swings,  around  his  Waste,  his  tingling  Hands: 
The  Sempstress    speeds  to    'Change    with    red-tipt 
Nose;  215 




The  Belgian  Stove  beneath  her  Footstool  glows, 

In  half-whipt  Muslin  Needles  useless  lye. 

And  Shuttle-cocks  across  the  Counter  fly. 

These  Sports  warm  harmless;  why  then  will  ye  prove. 

Deluded  Maids,  the  dang'rous  Flame  of  Love  ?     220 

Where  Covent-garderfs  famous  Temple  stands, 
That  boasts  the  Work  of  J 'ones'  immortal  Hands  ; 
Columns,  with  plain  Magnificence,  appear, 
And  graceful  Porches  lead  around  the  Square: 
Here  oft'  my  Course  I  bend,  when  lo !  from  far,    225 
I  spy  the  Furies  of  the  Foot- ball  War: 
The  'Prentice  quits  his  Shop,  to  join  the  Crew, 
Encreasing  Crouds  the  flying  Game  pursue. 
Thus,  as  you  roll  the  Ball  o'er  snowy  Ground, 
The  gath'ring  Globe  augments  with  ev'ry  Round; 
But  whither  shall  I  run  ?  the  Throng  draws  nigh,   23 1 
The  Ball  now  Skims  the  Street,  now  soars  on  high; 
The  dext'rous  Glazier  strong  returns  the  Bound, 
And  gingling  Sashes  on  the  Pent-house  sound. 

roving  Muse,  recal  that  wond'rous  Year,       235 
When  Winter  reign'd  in  bleak  Britannia*  Air ; 
When  hoary  Thames,  with  frosted  Oziers  crown'd, 
Was  three  long  Moons  in  icy  Fetters  bound. 
The  Waterman,  forlorn  along  the  Shore, 
Pensive  reclines  upon  his  useless  Oar,  240 

Sees  harness'd  Steeds  desert  the  stony  Town; 
And  wander  Roads  unstable,  not  their  own: 
Wheels  o'er  the  harden'd  Waters  smoothly  glide, 
And  rase  with  whiten'd  Tracks  the  slipp'ry  Tide. 

ir  i  A 

Here  the  fat  Cook  piles  high  the  blazing  Fire,     245 
And  scarce  the  Spit  can  turn  the  Steer  entire. 
Booths  sudden  hide  the  Thames,  long  Streets  appear, 
And  num'rous  Games  proclaim  the  crouded  Fair. 
So  when  a  Gen'ral  bids  the  martial  Train 
Spread  their  Encampment  o'er  the  spatious  Plain ; 
Thick-rising  Tents  a  Canvas  City  build,  251 

And  the  loud  Dice  resound  thro'  all  the  Field. 
Twas  here  the  Matron  found  a  doleful  Fate: 
In  Elegiac  Lay  the  Woe  relate, 
Soft,  as  the  Breath  of  distant  Flutes,  at  Hours,     255 
When  silent  Ev'ning  closes  up  the  Flow'rs ; 
Lulling,  as  falling  Water's  hollow  noise ; 
Indulging  Grief,  like  Philomelas  Voice. 

/ — ~7 

/Do///  ev'ry    Day    had    walk'd    these    treach'rous 

Roads ; 

Her  Neck  grew  warpt  beneath  autumnal  Loads    260 
Of  various  Fruit;  she  now  a  Basket  bore, 
That  Head,  alas !   shall  Basket  bear  no  more. 
Each  Booth  she  frequent  past,  in  quest  of  Gain, 
And  Boys  with  pleasure  heard  her  shrilling  Strain. 
Ah  Doll!  all  Mortals  must  resign  their  Breath,   265 
And  Industry  it  self  submit  to  Death  ! 
The  cracking  Crystal  yields,  she  sinks,  she  dyes, 
Her  Head,  chopt  off,  from  her  lost  Shoulders  flies: 
Pippins  she  cry'd,  but  Death  her  Voice  confounds, 
And  Pip-Pip-Pip  along  the  Ice  resounds.  270 

So  when  the  Thracian  Furies  Orpheus  tore, 
And  left  his  bleeding  Trunk  deform'd  with  Gore, 
His  sever'd  Head  floats  down  the  silver  Tide, 


R  I  r  I  A 


His  yet  warm  Tongue  for  his  lost  Consort  cry'd  ; 
Eurydice,  with  quiv'ring  Voice,  he  mourn'd,         275 
And  Heber's  Banks  Eurydice  return'd. 

But  now  the  western  Gale  the  Flood  unbinds, 
And  black'ning  Clouds  roll  on  with  warmer  Winds, 
The  wooden  Town  its  frail  Foundation  leaves, 
And    Thames    full    Urn    rolls   down   his   plenteous 
Waves:  280 

From  ev'ry  Penthouse  streams  the  fleeting  Snow, 
And  with  dissolving  Frost  the  Pavements  flow. 

Experienc'd  Men,  inur'd  to  City  Ways, 
Need  not  the  Calendar  to  count  their  Days. 
When  through  the  Town,  with  slow  and  solemn  Air, 
Led  by  the  Nostril,  walks  the  muzled  Bear;         286 
Behind  him  moves  majestically  dull, 
The  Pride  of  Hockley-hole,  the  surly  Bull  ; 
Learn  hence  the  Periods  of  the  Week  to  name, 
Mondays  and  Thursdays  are  the  Days  of  Game.  290 

When  fishy  Stalls  with  double  Store  are  laid  ; 
The  golden-belly'd  Carp,  the  broad-finn'd  Maid, 
Red-speckled  Trouts,  the  Salmon's  silver  Joul, 
The  jointed  Lobster,  and  unscaly  Soale, 
And  luscious  'Scallops,  to  allure  the  Tastes  295 

Of  rigid  Zealots  to  delicious  Fasts  ; 
Wednesdays  and  Fridays  you'll  observe  from  hence, 
Days,  when  our  Sires  were  doom'd  to  Abstinence. 

When  dirty  Waters  from  Balconies  drop, 


26  TR 

And  dextrous  Damsels  twirle  the  sprinkling  Mop,   300 
K  I  And  cleanse  the  spatter'd  Sash,  and  scrub  the  Stairs; 
Know  Saturdays  conclusive  Morn  appears. 

Successive  Crys  the  Season's  Change  declare, 
/  And  mark  the  Monthly  Progress  of  the  Year. 
Hark,  how  the  Streets  with  treble  Voices  ring,      305 
To  sell  the  bounteous  Product  of  the  Spring  ! 
Sweet-smelling  Flow'rs,  and  Elders  early  Bud, 
With  Nettle's  tender  Shoots,  to  cleanse  the  Blood  : 
And  when  Junes  Thunder  cools  the  sultry  Skies, 
Ev'n  Sundays  are  prophan'd  by  Mackrell  Cries.    310 

Wallnuts  the  Fruiterers  Hand,  in  Autumn,  stain, 
Blue  Plumbs,  and  juicy  Pears  augment  his  Gain ; 
Next  Oranges  the  longing  Boys  entice, 
To  trust  their  Copper-Fortunes  to  the  Dice. 

When  Rosemary,  and  Bays,  the  Poet's  Crown,   315 
Are  bawl'd,  in  frequent  Cries,  through  all  the  Town, 
Then  judge  the  Festival  of  Christmas  near, 
Christmas,  the  joyous  Period  of  the  Year. 
Now  with  bright  Holly  all  your  Temples  strow, 
With  Laurel  green,  and  sacred  Misletoe.  320 

Now,  Heav'n-born  Charity ,  thy  Blessings  shed  ; 
Bid  meagre  Want  uprear  her  sickly  Head: 
Bid  shiv'ring  Limbs  be  warm ;  let  Plenty's  Bowie, 
In  humble  Roofs,  make  glad  the  needy  Soul. 
See,  see,  the  Heav'n-born  Maid  her  Blessings  shed. 
Lo  !  meagre  Want  uprears  her  sickly  Head;         326 


T  R  I  r  I A  27 

Cloath'd  are  the  Naked,  and  the  Needy  glad, 
While  selfish  Avarice  alone  is  sad. 


Proud  Coaches  pass,  regardless  of  the  MoanA 
Of  Infant  Orphans,  and  the  Widow's  Groan ;        330 
While  Charity  still  moves  the  Walker's  Mind, 
His  lib'ral  Purse  relieves  the  Lame  and  Blind. 
Judiciously  thy  Half-pence  are  bestow'd, 
Where  the  laborious  Beggar  sweeps  the  Road. 
Whate'er  you  give,  give  ever  at  Demand,  335 

Nor  let  Old-Age  long  stretch  his  palsy'd  Hand. 
Those  who  give  late,  are  importun'd  each  Day, 
And  still  are  teaz'd,  because  they  still  delay. 
If  e'er  the  Miser  durst  his  Farthings  spare, 
He  thinly  spreads  them  through  the  publick  Square, 
Where,  all  beside  the  Rail,  rang'd  Beggars  lie,     341 
And  from  each  other  catch  the  doleful  Cry ; 
With   Heav'n,   for    Two-pence,    cheaply  wipes    his 

Lifts  up  his  Eyes,  and  hasts  to  beggar  more. 

Where  the  brass  Knocker,  wrapt  in  Flannel  Band, 
Forbids  the  Thunder  of  the  Footman's  Hand  ;     346 
Th'  Upholder,  rueful  Harbinger  of  Death 
Waits,  with  Impatience,  for  the  dying  Breath ; 
As  Vultures,  o'er  a  Camp,  with  hov'ring  Flight, 
Snuff  up  the  future  Carnage  of  the  Fight.  350 

Here  canst  thou  pass,  unmindful  of  a  Pray'r, 
That  Heav'n  in  Mercy  may  thy  Brother  spare  ? 

Come,  F*    *  sincere,  experienc'd  Friend, 


Thy  Briefs,  thy  Deeds,  and  ev'n  thy  Fees  suspend ; 
Come,  let  us  leave  the  Temples  silent  Walls,          355 
Me  Bus'ness  to  my  distant  Lodging  calls: 
Through  the  long  Strand  together  let  us  stray, 
With  thee  conversing,  I  forget  the  Way. 
Behold  that  narrow  Street,  which  steep  descends, 
Whose  Building  to  the  slimy  Shore  extends ;        360 
Here  ArundelFs  fam'd  Structure  rear'd  its  Frame, 
The  Street  alone  retains  an  empty  Name: 
Where  Titian  §  glowing  Paint  the  Canvas  warm'd, 
And  Raphael's  fair  Design,  with  Judgment,  charm'd, 
Now  hangs  the  Bell-man's  Song,  and  pasted  here, 
The  colour'd  Prints  of  Overton  appear.  366 

Where  Statues  breath'd,  the  Work  of  Phidias'  Hands, 
A  wooden  Pump,  or  lonely  Watch-house  stands. 
There  Essex  stately  Pile  adorn'd  the  Shore, 
There  Cecil's^  Bedford's,  Fillers,  now  no  more.    370 
Yet  Burlington 's  fair  Palace  still  remains ; 
Beauty  within,  without  Proportion  reigns. 
Beneath  his  Eye  declining  Art  revives, 
The  Wall  with  animated  Pidure  lives ;  374 

There  Hendel  strikes  the  Strings,  the  melting  Strain 
Transports  the  Soul,  and  thrills  through  ev'ry  Vein; 
There  oft'  I  enter  (but  with  cleaner  Shoes) 
For  Burlington  s  belov'd  by  ev'ry  Muse. 

O  ye  associate  Walkers,  O  my  Friends, 
Upon  your  State  what  Happiness  attends!  380 

What,  though  no  Coach  to  frequent  Visit  rolls, 
Nor  for  your  Shilling  Chairmen  sling  their  Poles ; 
Yet  still  your  Nerves  rheumatic  Pains  defye, 

TR I r I  A 


Nor  lazy  Jaundice  dulls  your  Saffron  Eye ; 
No  wasting  Cough  discharges  Sounds  of  Death,  385 
Nor  wheezing  Asthma  heaves  in  vain  for  Breath ; 
Nor  from  your  restless  Couch  is  heard  the  Groan 
Of  burning  Gout,  or  sedentary  Stone. 
Let  others  in  the  jolting  Coach  confide, 
Or  in  the  leaky  Boat  the  Thames  divide;  390 

Or,  box'd  within  the  Chair,  contemn  the  Street, 
And  trust  their  Safety  to  another's  Feet, 
Still  let  me  walk ;  for  oft'  the  sudden  Gale 
Ruffles  the  Tide,  and  shifts  the  dang'rous  Sail. 
Then  shall  the  Passenger,  too  late,  deplore  395 

The  whelming  Billow,  and  the  faithless  Oar; 
The  drunken  Chairman  in  the  Kennel  spurns, 
The  Glasses  shatters,  and  his  Charge  o'erturns. 
Who  can  recount  the  Coach's  various  Harms ; 
The  Legs  disjointed,  and  the  broken  Arms  ?         400 

I've  seen  a  Beau,  in  some  ill-fated  Hour, 
When   o'er  the  Stones  choak'd  Kennels  swell   the 


In  gilded  Chariot  loll ;  he  with  Disdain, 
Views  spatter'd  Passengers,  all  drench'd  in  Rain ; 
With  Mud  fill'd  high,  the  rumbling  Cart  draws  near, 
Now  rule  thy  prancing  Steeds,  lac'd  Charioteer  !  406 
The  Dustman  lashes  on  with  spiteful  Rage, 
His  pond'rous  Spokes  thy  painted  Wheel  engage, 
Crush'd  is  thy  Pride,  down  falls  the  shrieking  Beau, 
The  slabby  Pavement  crystal  Fragments  strow,     410 
Black  Floods  of  Mire  th'  embroider'd  Coat  disgrace, 
And  Mud  enwraps  the  Honours  of  his  Face, 


So  when  dread  Jove,  the  Son  of  Phoabus  hurl'd, 
Scarr'd  with  dark  Thunder,  to  the  nether  World  ; 
The  headstrong  Coursers  tore  the  silver  Reins,     415 
And  the  Sun's  beamy  Ruin  gilds  the  Plains. 

'If  the  pale  Walker  pants  with  weakening  Ills, 
His  sickly  Hand  is  stor'd  with  friendly  Bills  : 
From   hence,  he   learns  the  seventh-born  Dolor's 
Fame,  4*9 

From  hence,  he  learns  the  cheapest  Tailor's  Name. 

Shall  the  large  Mutton  smoak  upon  your  Boards? 
Such,  Newgate*  copious  Market  best  affords ; 
Would'st  thou  with  mighty  Beef  augment  thy  Meal? 
Seek  Leaden-hall;  Saint  James'*  sends  thee  Veal. 
Thames-street  gives  Cheeses;  Covent-garden  Fruits; 
Moor -fields  old   Books ;    and  Monmoutk-street  old 
Suits.  426 

Hence  may'st  thou  well  supply  the  Wants  of  Life, 
Support  thy  Family,  and  cloath  thy  Wife. 

Volumes,  on  shelter'd  Stalls,  expanded  lye, 
And  various  Science  lures  the  learned  Eye ;          430 
The  bending  Shelves  with  pond'rous  Scholiasts  groan, 
And  deep  Divines  to  modern  Shops  unknown  : 
Here,  like  the  Bee,  that  on  industrious  Wing, 
Collects  the  various  Odours  of  the  Spring, 
Walkers,  at  leisure,  Learning's  Flow'rs  may  spoil,  435 
Nor  watch  the  Wasting  of  the  Midnight  Oil, 
May  Morals  snatch  from  Plutarch'*  tatter'd  Page, 
A  mildew'd  Bacon,  or  Stagyrd**  Sage. 


R  I  r  I  A 


Here  saunt'ring  'Prentices  o'er  Otway  weep, 
O'er  Congreve  smile,  or  over  Z)**  sleep  ;  440 

Pleas'd  Sempstresses  the  Lock's  fam'd  Rape  unfold, 
And  f  Squirts  read  Garth^  'till  Apozems  grow  cold. 

O  Lintott,  let  my  Labours  obvious  lie, 
Rang'd  on  thy  Stall,  for  ev'ry  curious  Eye  ; 
So  shall  the  Poor  these  Precepts  gratis  know,      445 
And  to  my  Verse  their  future  Safeties  owe. 

What  Walker  shall  his  mean  Ambition  fix, 
On  the  false  Lustre  of  a  Coach  and  Six  ? 
Let  the  vain  Virgin,  lur'd  by  glaring  Show, 
Sigh  for  the  Liv'rys  of  th'  embroider'd  Beau.        450 

See,  yon'  bright  Chariot  on  its  Harness  swing, 
With  Flanders  Mares,  and  on  an  arched  Spring, 
That  Wretch,  to  gain  an  Equipage  and  Place, 
Betray  'd  his  Sister  to  a  lewd  Embrace. 
This   Coach,    that    with    the    blazon  'd    'Scutcheon 
glows,  455 

Vain  of  his  unknown  Race,  the  Coxcomb  shows. 
Here  the  brib'd  Lawyer,  sunk  in  Velvet,  sleeps  7] 
The  starving  Orphan,  as  he  passes,  weeps  ; 
There  flames  a  Fool,  begirt  with  tinsilled  Slaves, 
Who  wastes  the  Wealth  of  a  whole  Race  of  Knaves. 
That  other,  with  a  clustring  Train  behind,  461 

Owes  his  new  Honours  to  a  sordid  Mind. 
This  next  in  Court  Fidelity  excells, 

f   The  'Name  of  an  Apothecary  in  the  Poem  of  the  Dispensary. 

?  R  i  r  i  A 

f  The  Publick  rifles  and  his  Country 
May  the  proud  Chariot  never  be  my  Fate, 
If  purchas'd  at  so  mean,  so  dear  a  Rate  ; 
O  rather  give  me  sweet  Content  on  Foot, 
Wrapt  in  my  Vertue,  and  a  good  Surtout! 


R  I  r  I 

K  HI 

Of  Walking  the  Streets  by  Night. 

f^~  "^      '  "^^^ 

O     TRIVIA^  Goddess,  leave  these  low  Abodes, 
And  traverse  o'er  the  wide  Ethereal  Roads, 
Celestial  Queen,  put  on  thy  Robes  of  Light, 
Now  Cynthia  nam'd,  fair  Regent  of  the  Night. 
At  Sight  of  thee,  the  Villain  sheaths  his  Sword,       5 
Nor  scales  the  Wall,  to  steal  the  wealthy  Hoard. 
Oh  \  may  thy  Silver  Lamp  in  Heav'n's  high  Bow'r 
Direft  my  Footsteps  in  the  Midnight  Hour. 

When  Night  first  bids  the  twinkling  Stars  appear, 
Or  with  her  cloudy  Vest  in  wraps  the  Air,  10 

fThen  swarms  the  busie  Street;  with  Caution  tread, 
Where  the  Shop-  Windows  falling  threat  thy  Head; 
Now  Lab'rers  home  return,  and  join  their  Strength 
To  bear  the  tott'ring  Plank,  or  Ladder's  Length  ; 
Still  fix  thy  Eyes  intent  upon  the  Throng,  15 

And  as  the  Passes  open,  wind  along. 

Where  the  fair  Columns  of  Saint  Clement  stand, 
Whose  straiten'd  Bounds  encroach  upon  the  Strand^ 

33  F 


Where  the  low  Penthouse  bows  the  Walker's  Head, 
And  the  rough  Pavement  wounds  the  yielding  Tread; 
Where  not  a  Post  proteds  the  narrow  Space,          21 
And  strung  in  Twines,  Combs  dangle  in  thy  Face ; 
r£ummon  at  once  thy  Courage,  rouze  thy  Care, 
j  Stand  firm,  look  back,  be  resolute,  beware. 
Forth  issuing  from  steep  Lanes,  the  Colliers  Steeds  25 
Drag  the  black  Load ;  another  Cart  succeeds, 
Team  follows  Team,  Crouds  heap'd  on  Crouds  ap 

And  wait  impatient,  'till  the  Road  grow  clear. 
Now  all  the  Pavement  sounds  with  trampling  Feet, 
And  the  mixt  Hurry  barricades  the  Street.  30 

Entangled  here,  the  Waggon's  lengthen'd  Team 
Crack  the  tough  Harness ;  Here  a  pond'rous  Beam 
Lies  over-turn'd  athwart ;   For  Slaughter  fed, 
Here  lowing  Bullocks  raise  their  horned  Head. 
..Now  Oaths  grow  loud,  with  Coaches  Coaches  jar,   35 
\  And  the  smart  Blow  provokes  the  sturdy  War ; 
From  the  high  Box  they  whirl  the  Thong  around, 
And  with  the  twining  Lash  their  Shins  resound: 
Their  Rage  ferments,  more  dang'rous  Wounds  they 

And  the  Blood  gushes  down  their  painful  Eye.      40 
And  now  on  Foot  the  frowning  Warriors  light, 
And  with  their  pond'rous  Fists  renew  the  Fight ; 
Blow  answers  Blow,  their  Cheeks  are  'smear'd  with 


'Till  down  they  fall,  and  grappling  roll  in  Mud. 
So  when  two  Boars,  in  wild  *  Ttene  bred,  45 

*  New  Forest  in  Hampshire,  anciently  so  calfd. 

r  R  ir  i  A 


Or  on  tPestphalias  fattening  Chest-nuts  fed, 
Gnash  their  sharp  Tusks,  and  rous'd  with  equal  Fire, 
Dispute  the  Reign  of  some  luxurious  Mire ; 
In  the  black  Flood  they  wallow  o'er  and  o'er, 
'Till  their  arm'd  Jaws  distill  with  Foam  and  Gore.   50 

Where  the  Mob  gathers,  swiftly  shoot  along, 
Nor  idly  mingle  in  the  noisy  Throng. 
Lur'd  by  the  Silver  Hilt,  amid  the  Swarm, 
The  subtil  Artist  will  thy  Side  disarm. 
Nor  is  thy  Flaxen  Wigg  with  Safety  worn;  55 

High  on  the  Shoulder,  in  the  Basket  born, 
Lurks  the  sly  Boy ;  whose  Hand  to  Rapine  bred, 
Plucks  off  the  curling  Honours  of  the  Head. 
Here  dives  the  skulking  Thief,  with  pra&is'd  Slight, 
And  unfelt  Fingers  make  thy  Pocket  light.  60 

Where's    now   thy   Watch,   with   all    its    Trinkets, 

flown  ? 

And  thy  late  Snuff-Box  is  no  more  thy  own. 
But  lo !  his  bolder  Thefts  some  Tradesman  spies, 
Swift  from  his  Prey  the  scudding  Lurcher  flies ; 
Dext'rous  he  scapes  the  Coach,  with  nimble  Bounds, 
While  ev'ry  honest  Tongue  Stop  Thief  resounds.    66 
So  speeds  the  wily  Fox,  alarm'd  by  Fear, 
Who  lately  filch'd  the  Turkey's  callow  Care ; 
Hounds  following  Hounds,  grow  louder  as  he  flies, 
J\nd  injured  Tenants  joyn  the  Hunter's  Cries.         70 

f   Breathless  he  stumbling  falls:   Ill-fated  Boy! 

I    Why  did  not  honest  Work  thy  Youth  employ  ? 
Seiz'd  by  rough  Hands,  he's  dragg'd  amid  the  Rout, 
And  stretch'd  beneath  the  Pump's  incessant  Spout : 


(^Or  plung'd  in  miry  Ponds,  he  gasping  lies,  75 

\  Mud  choaks  his  Mouth,  and  plaisters  o'er  his  Eyes. 

Let  not  the  Ballad-Singer's  shrilling  Strain 
Amid  the  Swarm  thy  list'ning  Ear  detain: 
Guard  well  thy  Pocket ;  for  these  Syrens  stand, 
To  aid  the  Labours  of  the  diving  Hand  ;  80 

Confed'rate  in  the  Cheat,  they  draw  the  Throng, 
And  Cambrick  Handkerchiefs  reward  the  Song. 
But  soon  as  Coach  or  Cart  drives  rattling  on, 
The  Rabble  part,  in  Shoals  they  backward  run. 
So  Joves  loud  Bolts  the  mingled  War  divide,         85 
And  Greece  and  Troy  retreats  on  either  side. 

If  the  rude  Throng  pour  on  with  furious  Pace, 
And  hap  to  break  thee  from  a  Friend's  Embrace, 
Stop  short ;  nor  struggle  thro'  the  Croud  in  vain, 
But  watch  with  careful  Eye  the  passing  Train.       90 
Yet  I  (perhaps  too  fond)  if  chance  the  Tide 
Tumultuous,  bears  my  Partner  from  my  Side, 
Impatient  venture  back ;  despising  Harm, 
I  force  my  Passage  where  the  thickest  swarm. 
Thus  his  lost  Bride  the  Trojan  sought  in  vain         95 
Through  Night,  and  Arms,  and  Flames,  and  Hills  of 


Thus  Nisus  wander'd  o'er  the  pathless  Grove, 
To  find  the  brave  Companion  of  his  Love, 
The  pathless  Grove  in  vain  he  wanders  o'er: 
Euryalus  alas  !  is  now  no  more.  100 

That  Walker,  who  regardless  of  his  Pace, 


oft5  to  pore  upon  the  Damsel's  Face, 
From  Side  to  Side  by  thrusting  Elbows  tost, 
Shall  strike  his  aking  Breast  against  the  Post ; 
Or  Water,  dash'd  from  fishy  Stalls,  shall  stain        105 
His  hapless  Coat  with  Spirts  of  scaly  Rain. 
But  if  unwarily  he  chance  to  stray, 
Where  twirling  Turnstiles  intercept  the  Way, 
The  thwarting  Passenger  shall  force  them  round, 
And  beat  the  Wretch  half  breathless  to  the  Ground. 

Let  constant  Vigilance  thy  Footsteps  guide,      1 1 1 
And  wary  Circumspection  guard  thy  Side ; 
Then  shalt  thou  walk  unharm'd  the  dang'rous  Night, 
Nor  need  th'  officious  Link-Boy's  smoaky  Light. 
Thou  never  wilt  attempt  to  cross  the  Road,          115 
Where  Alehouse  Benches  rest  the  Porter's  Load, 
Grievous  to  heedless  Shins ;   No  Barrow's  Wheel, 
That  bruises  oft'  the  Truant  School-Boy's  Heel, 
Behind  thee  rolling,  with  insidious  Pace, 
Shall  mark  thy  Stocking  with  a  miry  Trace.          120 
,    Let  not  thy  vent'rous  Steps  approach  too  nigh, 
Where  gaping  wide,  low  steepy  Cellars  lie; 
Should  thy  Shoe  wrench  aside,  down,  down  you  fall, 
And  overturn  the  scolding  Huckster's  Stall, 
The  scolding  Huckster  shall  not  o'er  thee  moan,   125 
But  Pence  exadt  for  Nuts  and  Pears  o'erthrown. 

Though  you  through  cleanlier  Allies  wind  by  Day, 
To  shun  the  Hurries  of  the  publick  Way, 
Yet  ne'er  to  those  dark  Paths  by  Night  retire ; 
Mind  only  Safety,  and  contemn  the  Mire.  130 


I  A 

Then  no  impervious  Courts  thy  Haste  detain, 
Nor  sneering  Ale-  Wives  bid  thee  turn  again. 

Where  Lincoln*  s-Inn,  wide  Space,  is  rail'd  around, 
Cross  not  with  vent'rous  Step  ;  there  oft'  is  found 
The  lurking  Thief,  who  while  the  Day-light  shone, 
Made  the  Walls  eccho  with  his  begging  Tone:     136 
That  Crutch  which  late  Compassion   mov'd,  shall 


Thy  bleeding  Head,  and  fell  thee  to  the  Ground. 
Though  thou  art  tempted  by  the  Link-man's  Call, 
Yet  trust  him  not  along  the  lonely  Wall;  140 

In  the  Mid-way  he'll  quench  the  flaming  Brand, 
And  share  the  Booty  with  the  pilf'ring  Band. 
Still  keep  the  publick  Streets,  where  oily  Rays 
Shot  from  the  Crystal  Lamp,  o'erspread  the  Ways. 

Happy  Augusta  !  Law-defended  Town  !          145 
Here  no  dark  Lanthorns  shade  the  Villain's  Frown; 
No  Spanish  Jealousies  thy  Lanes  infest, 
Nor  Roman  Vengeance  stabs  th'  unwary  Breast; 
Here  Tyranny  ne'er  lifts  her  purple  Hand, 
But  Liberty  and  Justice  guard  the  Land  ;  150 

No  Bravos  here  profess  the  bloody  Trade, 
Nor  is  the  Church  the  Murd'rer's  Refuge  made. 

Let  not  the  Chairman,  with  assuming  Stride, 
Press  near  the  Wall,  and  rudely  thrust  thy  Side  : 
The  Laws  have  set  him  Bounds;  his  servile  Feet   155 
Should  ne'er  encroach  where  Posts  defend  the  Street. 
Yet  who  the  Footman's  Arrogance  can  quell, 



r  K  i  r  i  A 


Whose  Flambeau  gilds  the  Sashes  of  Pell-mell  ? 

When  in  long  Rank  a  Train  of  Torches  flame, 

To  light  the  Midnight  Visits  of  the  Dame  ?          160 

Others,  perhaps,  by  happier  Guidance  led, 

May  where  the  Chairman  rests,  with  Safety  tread ; 

Mhene'er  I  pass,  their  Poles  unseen  below, 
ake  my  Knee  tremble  with  the  jarring  Blow. 

If  Wheels  bar  up  the  Road,  where  Streets  are  crost, 
With  gentle  Words  the  Coachman's  Ear  accost:    166 
He  ne'er  the  Threat,  or  harsh  Command  obeys, 
But  with  Contempt  the  spatter'd  Shoe  surveys. 
Now  man  with  utmost  Fortitude  thy  Soul, 
To  cross  the  Way  where  Carts  and  Coaches  roll ; 
Yet  do  not  in  thy  hardy  Skill  confide,  171 

Nor  rashly  risque  the  Kennel's  spacious  Stride ; 
Stay  till  afar  the  distant  Wheel  you  hear, 
Like  dying  Thunder  in  the  breaking  Air ; 
Thy  Foot  will  slide  upon  the  miry  Stone,  175 

And  passing  Coaches  crush  thy  tortur'd  Bone, 
Or  Wheels  enclose  the  Road;  on  either  Hand 
Pent  round  with  Perils,  in  the  midst  you  stand, 
And  call  for  Aid  in  vain ;   the  Coachman  swears, 
]  And  Carmen  drive,  unmindful  of  thy  Prayers.       180 
Where  wilt  thou  turn  ?  ah !  whither  wilt  thou  fly  ? 
On  ev'ry  side  the  pressing  Spokes  are  nigh. 
So  Sailors,  while  Charybdis  Gulphs  they  shun, 
Amaz'd,  on  Scyllas  craggy  Dangers  run. 

Be  sure  observe  where  brown  Ostrea  stands,     185 
Who  boasts  her  shelly  Ware  from  Wallfleet  Sands; 


There  may'st  thou  pass,  with  safe  unmiry  Feet, 
Where  the  rais'd  Pavement  leads  athwart  the  Street. 
If  where  Fleet-Ditch  with  muddy  Current  flows, 
You  chance  to  roam ;  where  Oyster-Tubs  in  Rows 
Are  rang'd  beside  the  Posts;  there  stay  thy  Haste,   191 
And  with  the  sav'ry  Fish  indulge  thy  Taste  : 
The  Damsel's  Knife  the  gaping  Shell  commands, 
While  the  salt  Liquor  streams  between  her  Hands. 

The  Man  had  sure  a  Palate  covered  o'er  195 

With  Brass  or  Steel,  that  on  the  rocky  Shore 
First  broke  the  oozy  Oyster's  pearly  Coat, 
And  risqu'd  the  living  Morsel  down  his  Throat. 
I  What  will  not  Lux'ry  taste?  (Earth,  Sea,  and  Air 
Are  daily  ransack'd  for  the  Bill  of  Fare.  200 

Blood  stufFd  in  Skins  is  British  Christian's  Food, 
And  France  robs  Marshes  of  the  croaking  Brood ; 
Spungy  More/Is  in  strong  Ragousts  are  found, 
And  in  the  Soupe  the  slimy  Snail  is  drown'd. 

When  from  high  Spouts  the  dashing  Torrents  fall, 
Ever  be  watchful  to  maintain  the  Wall;  206 

For   should'st  thou  quit   thy  Ground,  the   rushing 


Will  with  impetuous  Fury  drive  along; 
All  press  to  gain  those  Honours  thou  hast  lost, 
And  rudely  shove  thee  far  without  the  Post.         210 
Then  to  retrieve  the  Shed  you  strive  in  vain, 
Draggled  all  o'er,  and  soak'd  in  Floods  of  Rain. 
Yet  rather  bear  the  Show'r,  and  Toils  of  Mud, 
Than  in  the  doubtful  Quarrel  risque  thy  Blood. 


O  think  on  OEdipus'  detested  State,  215 

And  by  his  Woes  he  warn'd  to  shun  thy  Fate. 

Where  three  Roads  join'd,  he  met  his  Sire  un 

(Unhappy  Sire,  but  more  unhappy  Son!) 
Each  claim'd  the  Way,  their  Swords  the  Strife  decide, 
The  hoary  Monarch  fell,  he  groan'd  and  dy'd!     220 
Hence  sprung  the  fatal  Plague  that  thinn'd  thy  Reign, 
Thy  cursed  Incest !  and  thy  Children  slain ! 
Hence  wert  thou  doom'd  in  endless  Night  to  stray 
Through   Theban  Streets,  and  cheerless  groap  thy 

Contemplate,  Mortal,  on  thy  fleeting  Years;     225 
See,  with  black  Train  the  Funeral  Pomp  appears ! 
Whether  some  Heir  attends  in  sable  State, 
And  mourns  with  outward  Grief  a  Parent's  Fate; 
Or  the  fair  Virgin,  nipt  in  Beauty's  Bloom, 
A  Croud  of  Lovers  follow  to  her  Tomb.  230 

Why  is  the  Herse  with  'Scutcheons  blazon'd  round, 
And  with  the  nodding  Plume  of  Ostrich  crown'd? 
No :  The  Dead  know  it  not,  nor  Profit  gain ; 
Jt  only  serves  to  prove  the  Living  vain. 
(How  short  is  Life!  how  frail  is  human  Trust!       235 
Is  all  this  Pomp  for  laying  Dust  to  Dust  ? 

Where  the  naiPd  Hoop  defends  the  painted  Stall, 
Brush  not  thy  sweeping  Skirt  too  near  the  Wall ; 
Thy  heedless  Sleeve  will  drink  the  coloured  Oil, 
iAnd  Spot  indelible  thy  Pocket  soil.  240 



Has  not  wise  Nature  strung  the  Legs  and  Feet 
With  firmest  Nerves,  designed  to  walk  the  Street? 
Has  she  not  given  us  Hands,  to  groap  aright, 
Amidst  the  frequent  Dangers  of  the  Night? 
And  think'st  thou  not  the  double  Nostril  meant, 
To  warn  from  oily  Woes  by  previous  Scent?        246 

Who  can  the  various  City  Frauds  recite, 
With  all  the  petty  Rapines  of  the  Night? 
Who  now  the  Guinea-Droppers  Bait  regards, 
Trick'd  by  the  Sharper's  Dice,  or  Juggler's  Cards? 
Why  shou'd  I  warn  thee  ne'er  to  join  the  Fray,   25 1 
/  Where  the  Sham-Quarrel  interrupts  the  Way? 
Lives  there  in  these  our  Days  so  soft  a  Clown, 
Brav'd  by  the  Bully's  Oaths,  or  threat'ning  Frown  ? 
I  need  not  strict  enjoyn  the  Pocket's  Care,  255 

When  from  the  crouded  Play  thou  lead'st  the  Fair ; 
Who  has  not  here,  or  Watch,  or  Snuff-Box  lost, 
Or  Handkerchiefs  that  India*  Shuttle  boast ? 

r "  '  ^  >  A 

O !   may  thy  Virtue  guard  thee  through  the  Roads 
Of  Drury\  mazy  Courts,  and  dark  Abodes,          260 
The  Harlots'  guileful  Paths,  who  nightly  stand, 
_Where  Katherine-street  descends  into  the  Strand. 
Say,  vagrant  Muse,  their  Wiles  and  subtil  Arts, 
To  lure  the  Stranger's  unsuspecting  Hearts; 
So  shall  our  Youth  on  healthful  Sinews  tread,       265 
And  City  Cheeks  grow  warm  with  rural  Red. 

Tis  She  who  nightly  strowls  with  saunt'ring  Pace, 
No  stubborn  Stays  her  yielding  Shape  embrace; 



^ILlU-SS  g 
^S^J  i*  H 
aV.Pi-ue  H 

llfira  ^ 


I!  8fl 


R  I  r  I A 


Beneath  the  Lamp  her  tawdry  Ribbons  glare, 
The  new-scower'd  Manteau,  and  the  slattern  Air; 
High-draggled  Petticoats  her  Travels  show,          271 
And  hollow  Cheeks  with  artful  Blushes  glow; 
With  flattering  Sounds  she  sooths  the  cred'lous  Ear, 
My  noble  Captain  !  Charmer !  Love !  my  Dear ! 
In  Riding-hood,  near  Tavern-Doors  she  plies,      275 
Or  muffled  Pinners  hide  her  livid  Eyes. 
With  empty  Bandbox  she  delights  to  range, 
And  feigns  a  distant  Errand  from  the  Change^ 
Nay,  she  will  oft*  the  Quaker's  Hood  prophane, 
And  trudge  demure  the  Rounds  of  Drury-Lane. 
She  darts  from  Sarsnet  Ambush  wily  Leers,  281 

Twitches  thy  Sleeve,  or  with  familiar  Airs, 
Her  Fan  will  pat  thy  Cheek;  these  Snares  disdain, 
|  Nor  gaze  behind  thee,  when  she  turns  again. 

I  knew  a  Yeoman,  who  for  thirst  of  Gain,        285 
To  the  great  City  drove  from  Devon  s  Plain 
His  numerous  lowing  Herd;  his  Herds  he  sold, 
And  his  deep  leathern  Pocket  bagg'd  with  Gold; 
Drawn  by  a  fraudful  Nyrnph,  he  gaz'd,  he  sigh'd; 
Unmindful  of  his  Home,  and  distant  Bride,          290 
She  leads  the  willing  Vicftim  to  his  Doom, 
Through  winding  Alleys  to  her  Cobweb  Room. 
Thence  thro'  the  Street  he  reels,  from  Post  to  Post, 
Valiant  with  Wine,  nor  knows  his  Treasure  lost. 
The  vagrant  Wretch  th'  assembled  Watchmen  spies, 
He  waves  his  Hanger,  and  their  Poles  defies ;       296 
Deep  in  the  Round-House  pent,  all  Night  he  snores, 
And  the  next  Morn  in  vain  his  Fate  deplores. 

44  I  A 

Ah  hapless  Swain,  unus'd  to  Pains  and  Ills  ! 
Canst  thou  forgo  Roast-Beef  for  nauseous  Pills  ?  300 
How  wilt  thou  lift  to  Heav'n  thy  Eyes  and  Hands, 
When  the  long  Scroll  the  Surgeon's  Fees  demands  ! 
Or  else  (ye  Gods  avert  that  worst  Disgrace) 
Thy  ruin'd  Nose  falls  level  with  thy  Face, 
|  Then  shall  thy  Wife  thy  loathsome  Kiss  disdain,  305 
wholesome  Neighbours  from  thy  Mug  refrain. 

Yet  there  are  Watchmen,  who  with  friendly  Light, 
Will  teach  thy  reeling  Steps  to  tread  aright; 
For  Sixpence  will  support  thy  helpless  Arm, 
And  Home  condud  thee,  safe  from  nightly  Harm; 

^^  i 

But  if  they  shake  their  Lanthorns,  from  afar,        311 
To  call  their  Breth'ren  to  confed'rate  War, 
When  Rakes  resist  their  Pow'r;  if  hapless  you 
Should  chance  to  wander  with  the  scow'ring  Crew; 
Though  Fortune  yield  thee  Captive,  ne'er  despair, 
But  seek  the  Constable's  consid'rate  Ear;  316 

He  will  reverse  the  Watchman's  harsh  Decree, 
Mov'd  by  the  Rhet'rick  of  a  Silver  Fee. 
Thus  would  you  gain  some  fav'rite  Courtiers  Word  ; 
Fee  not  the  petty  Clarks,  but  bribe  my  Lord^j      320 

Now  is  the  Time  that  Rakes  their  Revells  keep  ; 
Kindlers  of  Riot,  Enemies  of  Sleep. 
His  scatter'd  Pence  the  flying  *  Nicker  flings, 
And  with  the  Copper  Show'r  the  Casement  rings. 
Who  has  not  heard  the  Scowrer's  Midnight  Fame? 
Who  has  not  trembled  at  the  Mohock's  Name?     326 

*  Gentlemen,  who  delighted  to  break  Windows  with  Half-pence. 


Was  there  a  Watchman  took  his  hourly  Rounds, 
Safe  from  their  Blows,  or  new-invented  Wounds? 
I  pass  their  desperate  Deeds,  and  Mischiefs  done,    329 
Where  from  Snow-hill  black  steepy  Torrents  run ; 
How  Matrons,  hoop'd  within  the  Hogshead's  Womb, 
Were  tumbled  furious  thence,  the  rolling  Tomb 
O'er    the    Stones    thunders,   bounds  from  Side    to 

So  Regulus  to  save  his  Country  dy'd. 

p      Where  a  dim  Gleam  the  paly  Lanthorn  throws 
O'er  the  mid' Pavement ;  heapy  Rubbish  grows,    336 
Or  arched  Vaults  their  gaping  Jaws  extend, 
Or  the  dark  Caves  to  Common-Shores  descend. 
Oft'  by  the  Winds,  extinft  the  Signal  lies, 
Or  smother'd  in  the  glimm'ring  Socket  dies,         340 
E'er  Night  has  half  rol I'd  round  her  Ebon  Throne; 
In  the  wide  Gulph  the  shatter'd  Coach  o'erthrown, 
Sinks  with  the  snorting  Steeds ;   the  Reins  are  broke, 
And  from  the  cracking  Axle  flies  the  Spoke. 
So  when  fam'd  Eddystones  far-shooting  Ray,       345 
That  led  the  Sailor  through  the  stormy  Way, 
Was  from  its  rocky  Roots  by  Billows  torn, 
And  the  high  Turret  in  the  Whirlewind  born, 
Fleets  bulg'd  their  Sides  against  the  craggy  Land, 
And  pitchy  Ruines  blacken'd  all  the  Strand.         350 

Who  then  through  Night  would  hire  the  harness'd 

And  who  would  chuse  the  rattling  Wheel  for  Speed  ? 


But  hark!    Distress  with  screaming  Voice   draws 


And  wakes  the  slumb'ring  Street  with  Cries  of  Fire. 
At  first  a  glowing  Red  enwraps  the  Skies,  355 

And  born  by  Winds  the  scattering  Sparks  arise; 
From  Beam  to  Beam,  the  fierce  Contagion  spreads; 
The  spiry  Flames  now  lift  aloft  their  Heads, 
Through  the  burst  Sash  a  blazing  Deluge  pours, 
And  splitting  Tiles  descend  in  rattling  Show'rs.    360 
Now  with  thick   Crouds  th5  enlighten'd  Pavement 


The  Fire-man  sweats  beneath  his  crooked  Arms, 
A  leathern  Casque  his  vent'rous  Head  defends, 
Boldly  he  climbs  where  thickest  Smoak  ascends; 
Mov'd  by  the  Mother's  streaming  Eyes  and  Pray'rs, 
The  helpless  Infant  through  the  Flame  he  bears,  366 
With  no  less  Virtue,  than  through  hostile  Fire, 
The  Dardan  Hero  bore  his  aged  Sire, 
See  forceful  Engines  spout  their  levelPd  Streams, 
To  quench  the  Blaze  that  runs  along  the  Beams;  370 
The  grappling  Hook  plucks  Rafters  from  the  Walls, 
And  Heaps  on  Heaps  the  smoaky  Ruine  falls. 
Blown  by  strong  Winds  the  fiery  Tempest  roars, 
Bears  down  new  Walls,  and  pours  along  the  Floors : 
The  Heav'ns  are  all  a-blaze,  the  Face  of  Night    375 
Is  cover'd  with  a  sanguine  dreadful  Light ; 
'Twas  such  a  Light  involved  thy  Tow'rs,  O  Rome, 
The  dire  Presage  of  mighty  C&sars  Doom, 
When  the  Sun  veiPd  in  Rust  his  mourning  Head, 
And  frightful  Prodigies  the  Skies  o'erspread.         380 
Hark!  the  Drum  thunders!  far,  ye  Crouds,  retire: 
















T  R  I  r  I  A 


B  ehold  !  the  ready  Match  is  tipt  with  Fire, 
The  nitrous  Store  is  laid,  the  smutty  Train 
With  running  Blaze  awakes  the  barrell'd  Grain; 
Flames  sudden  wrap  the  Walls;  with  sullen  Sound, 
The  shattered  Pile  sinks  on  the  smoaky  Ground.  386 
So  when  the  Years  shall  have  revolv'd  the  Date, 
Th'  inevitable  Hour  of  Naples'  Fate, 
Her  sap'd  Foundations  shall  with  Thunders  shake, 
And  heave  and  toss  upon  the  sulph'rous  Lake  ;     390 
Earth's  Womb  at  once  the  fiery  Flood  shall  rend, 
And  in  th'  Abyss  her  plunging  Tow'rs  descend. 

Consider,  Reader,  what  Fatigues  I've  known, 
The  Toils,  the  Perils  of  the  wintry  Town; 
What  Riots  seen,  what  bustling  Crouds  I  bor'd,    395 
How  oft'  I  cross'd  where  Carts  and  Coaches  roar'd; 
Yet  shall  I  bless  my  Labours,  if  Mankind 
Their  future  Safety  from  my  Dangers  find, 
Thus  the  bold  Traveller,  inur'd  to  Toil, 
Whose  Steps  have  printed  Asia's  desert  Soil,        400 
The  barbarous  Arabs  Haunt;  or  shiv'ring  crost 
Dark  Greenland  Mountains  of  eternal  Frost; 
Whom  Providence,  in  length  of  Years,  restores 
To  the  wish'd  Harbour  of  his  native  Shores; 
Sets  forth  his  Journals  to  the  publick  View,         405 
To  caution,  by  his  Woes,  the  wandring  Crew. 

And  now  compleat  my  gen'rous  Labours  lye, 
Finish'd,  and  ripe  for  Immortality. 
Death  shall  entomb  in  Dust  this  mould'ring  Frame, 
But  never  reach  th'  eternal  Part,  my  Fame.  410 


TR  I 

When  W  *  and  G*  *,  mighty  Names,  are  dead; 
Or  but  at  Chelsea  under  Custards  read; 
When  Criticks  crazy  Bandboxes  repair, 
And  Tragedies,  turn'd  Rockets,  bounce  in  Air;   414 
rTIigh-rais'd  on  Fleetstreet  Posts,  consign'd  to  Fame, 
This  Work  shall  shine,  and  Walkers  bless  my  Name. 



[In  the  earliest  editions,  the  Index  references  were  to  pages.  Here,  the  pagina 
tion  not  agreeing  with  the  original,  the  numbering  by  Books  and  Lines  has 
been  adopted.] 


AUTHOR,  for  whom  he  wrote  the  Poem,                  I,  1 19 

Asses  their  Arrogance,  II,  1 3 

Ariadne^  Clue,  II,  86 

Alley,  the  Pleasure  of  Walking  in  one,  II,  149 

Almanacks,  useless  to  judicious  Walkers,  II,  284 

Autumn,  what  Cries  then  in  use,  II,  311 

Arundel-street,  II,  361 

Author,  his  Wish,  III,  i 

Alley,  not  to  be  walKd  in  by  Night,  III,  127 


Bavaroy,  by  whom  worn,  I,  53 

Brokers  keep  Coaches,  I,  115 

Bookseller,  skill* d  in  the  Weather,  I,  1 6 1 

Barber,  by  whom  to  be  shurfd,  II,  23 

Baker,  to  whom  prejudicial,  II,  23 

Butchers  to  be  avoided,  II,  43 

Bully,  bis  Insolence  to  be  correfted,  II,  59 

Broker,  where  he  usually  walks,  II,  155 

Burlington-house,  II,  371 

Beau's  Chariot  overturned,  II,  398 

Bills  dispersed  to  Walkers,  II,  41 8 

Ballad-Singers,  HI,  77 



Country,  the  Authors  Love  of  his,  I,  21 

Civic-Crown,  I'  2O 

Cane,  the  Convenience  of  one,  I,  bi 

An  Amber-headed  one  useless,  I,  67 

The  Abuse  of  it,  *t>- 

Camlet,  how  a/ecJed  by  Rain,  I,  46 

Coat,  how  to  chuse  one  for  the  Winter,  I,  42 

Chairs  and  Chariots  prejudical  to  Health,  I,  70 

Coachman  asleep  on  his  Box,  what  the  Sign  of,  I,  155 
Chairmen,  an  Observation  upon  them,  I,  153  seq. 

Church-Monuments  foretell  the  Weather,  I,  167 

Common-shores,  I,  171 

Cold,  the  Description  of  one,  I,  268 

Clergy,  what  Tradesmen  to  avoid,  II,  27 

Chimney-S weeper,  by  whom  to  be  avoided,  II,  33 

Chandlers  prejudicial  to  Walkers,  II,  4° 

Civility  to  be  paid  to  Walkers,  II,  45 

Coachman,  his  Metamorphosis,  II,  1 18 

Carman  when  unmerciful,  his  Punishment,  II,  119 

Cheapside,  II,  122 

Cheese  not  lovd  by  the  Author,  II,  132 

Country-man  perplexed  to  jind  the  Way,  11,78 

Coachman,  his  Whip  dangerous,  II,  190 

His  Care  of  his  Horses,  II,  192 

Coaches  dangerous  in  snowy  Weather,  II,  206 

Chairmen,  their  Exercise  in  frosty  Weather,  II,  214 
Covent-Garden,  II,  221,  425 
Cries  of  the  Town,  Observations  upon  them,  II,  303  seq. 

Christmas,  what  Cries  fore -run  it,  II,  317 

A  Season  for  general  Charity,  II,  321 

Coaches,  those  that  keep  them  uncharitable,  II,  329  seq. 

Charity  most  practised  by  Walkers,  II,  331 

Where  given  with  Judgment,  II,  335 

—  Not  to  be  delay  d,  II,  337 
Chairs,  the  Danger  of  them,  II,  393 
Coaches  attended  with  ill  Accidents,  II,  399 
Despised  by  Walkers,  II,  447 

•I  N  D  EX  51 

Coaches  Kept  by  Coxcombs  and  Pimps,  II,  453 

ClementV  Church,  the  Pass  of  it  described,  III,  17 

Colliers  Carts,  III,  25 

Coaches,  a  Stop  of  them  described,  III,  26  seq. 

Coachmen,  a  Fight  of  them,  III,  36 

Crowd  parted  by  a  Coach,  III,  84 

Cellar,  the  Misfortune  of  falling  into  one,  III,  123 

Cu-de-Sac,  III,  131 

Chairmen,  Law  concerning  them,  III,  153  seq. 

•  Their  Poles  dangerous,  III,  163 

Coachmen  despise  dirty  Shoes,  III,  168 

Coaches,  a  Man  surrounded  by  them,  III,  177 

Constable,  his  Consideration,  III,  316 

Coach  fallen  into  a  Hole,  described,  III,  342 

Criticks,  their  Fate,  III,  413 


D'oily  Stuff's,  useless  in  Winter,  I,  43 

Drugget-Silk,  improper  in  cold  Weather,  I,  44 

Dress,  Propriety  therein  to  be  observed,  I,  121  seq. 

Drummers  improper  at  a  Wedding,  II,  19 

Dustman,  to  whom  offensive,  II,  37 

Drays,  when  not  to  be  walked  behind,  II,  167 

Doll,  a  melancholy  Story  of  her  Death,  II,  259  seq. 

Dustman  spiteful  to  gilded  Chariots,  II,  407  seq. 

Drury-Lane  dangerous  to  Virtue,  III,  259  seq. 


Evening  described,  III,  9 

Eddystone  Light-house,  III,  345 


Frieze,  its  Defetfs,  I,  45 
Footman,  his  Prudence  in  rainy  Weather,  I,  127 
Fair  Weather,  Signs  of  it,  I,  143  seq. 
FarrierV  Shop,  a  Description  of  one,  I*  258 
Fop,  the  Description  of  one  walking,  II,  53 
•  The  til  Consequence  of  passing  too  near  one,  II,  58 


Female  Guides  not  to  be  made  use  of,  II,  186 

Foot-ball  described,  II,  226 

Frost,  an  Episode  of  the  great  one,  II,  235  seq. 

Fair,  one  kept  on  the  Thames,  II,  248 

Fishmonger,  the  Description  of  bis  Stall,  II,  291  seq. 

Friday,  how  to  know  it,  II,  297 

Friend,  the  Author  walks  with  one,  II,  355 

Rules  to  walk  with  one,  III,  87  seq. 

Fox,  like  a  Pick-pocket,  III,  67 

Foot-man  very  arrogant,  II  I,  157 
Fleet-Ditch,                                                          I,  124;  III,  189 

Funeral,  the  Walkers  Contemplation  on  one,  III,  225  seq. 

Fire,  the  Description  of  one,  III,  353  seq. 

Fire-man,  his  Vertue,  III,  362  seq. 

Fire-Engines,  III,  369 


Gamester,  his  Chariot  described,  I,  1 1 5 

Glasier,  his  Skill  at  Foot-Ball,  I,  233 

Guinea-droppers,  III,  249 


Health  acquired  by  Walking,  I,  73 

Holland,  the  Streets  of  that  Country  described,  I,  87 

Hosier's  Poles,  what  observed  by  them,  I,  165 

Hawker,  at  what  Time  he  crys  News,  II,  22 

Horses  like  Parthian's,  II,  173 

Hands,  their  Use,  IH5  243 

House  blown  up,  the  Description  of  it,  III',  382 


Invention  of  Pattens,  I,  22I  sen 

Jugglers  to  be  avoided,  n,  165 

Industry  not  exempt  from  Death,  II,  266 

June,  what  Cry  denotes  that  Month,  II,  309 

James  St.  its  Market,  II!  425 


Knocker  of  a  Door,  an  Observation  on  one,  II,  345 

Katherine-street,  Hi    262 

I N  D  EX 


London,  its  Happiness  before  the  Invention  of  Coaches  and  Chairs, 

I,  10 1 

Ladies  'walking  the  Streets,  I>  105 

.  In  the  Park  what  they  betoken,  I,  145 

Dress,  neither  by  Reason  nor  Instinft !,  I,  150 

Letchers  old,  where  they  frequent,  II,  159 

Leaden-hall  Market,  II,  425 

Lintott  Mr.  Advice  to  him,  II,  443 

Lawyer  passing  the  Street  in  a  Coach,  II,  457 

Labourers  return  d from  Work,  III,  13 

Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  III,  133 

Linkman,  where  not  to  be  trusted,  III,  139 

Luxury,  a  Reflection  on  it,  III,  199 

Legs,  their  Use,  III,  241 

Lanthorn,  what  it  shews  in  the  middle  of  the  Street,  III,  335 


Martha,  a  Milk-maid  of  Lincolnshire,  I,  227 

Morning,  then  what  Jirst  to  be  considered,  I,  121  seq. 

Morning  described,  II,  7  seq. 

Milk-maid  of  the  City,  unlike  a  Rural  One,  II,  12 

Mercy  recommended  to  Coachmen  and  Carmen,  II,  1 1 1 

Masons,  dangerous  to  pass  where  at  Work,  II,  146 

Modesty  not  to  be  offended,  II,  178 

Monday,  by  what  Observations  to  know  it,  II,  290 

Miser,  his  manner  of  Charity,  II,  239 

Moor-Fields,  II,  426 

Monmouth-Street,  ib. 

Mobs  to  be  avoided,  III,  51  seq. 

Mohocks,  a  Sett  of  modern  Rakes,  III,  326 

Matrons  put  in  Hogsheads,  III,  331 


Naples,  the  Streets  of  that  City,  I>  93 

Newgate  Market,  II,  422 

Nisus  and  Euryalus,  III,  97 

54  r  R  i 'r i  A 

Nose,  its  Use,  HI,  245 

Nicker,  his  Art,  U,  324 

Naples,  its  Fate,  HI,  389 


Oysters,  at  what  time  first  cryd,  I,  28 

0/</  Woman,  an  Observation  upon  one,'  I,  139 

Observations  on  the  Looks  of  Walkers,  II,  154 

OA;  roasted  on  the  Thames,  II,  246 

Orpheus,  his  Death,  II,  271 

Overton  the  Print-Seller,  II,  366 

Oyster-Wench,  III,  185 
Oyster,  the  Courage  of  him  that  first  eat  one,              III,  195  seq. 

OEdipus,  III,  215 


Pavers,  their  Duty,  I,  1 3 

Paris,  the  Streets  of  that  City,  I,  85 

Poor,  their  Murmurs,  what  the  Sign  of,  I,  138 

Paul  Saint,  his  Festival,  I,  177 

Precepts,  what  the  Consequence,  if  negleffed,  I,  189  seq. 

Pattens,  a  Female  Implement,  I,  212 

Presents  better  than  Flattery,  I,  280 

Patten,  its  Derivation,  I,  282 

Perfumer,  by  whom  to  be  avoided,  II,  29 

Porter  sworn,  useful  to  Walkers,  II,  66 

Prentices  not  to  be  retyd  on,  II,  69 

Post,  when  to  walk  on  the  outside  of  it,  II,  98 

Pillory  not  to  be  gaz'd  upon,  II,  99 

Pall-M  all  celebrated,  II,  1 3  5 

Pythagoras  his  Dottrine,  II,  115 

Petticoat,  its  Use  in  bad  Weather,  II,  184 

Pavers,  a  Signal  for  Coaches  to  avoid  them,  II,  187 

Pattens  inconvenient  in  snowy  Weather,  II,  202 

Phaeton,  a  Beau  compared  to  him,  II,  413 

P  err  twigs,  how  stolen  off  the  Head,  III,  55 

Pick-pocket,  bis  Art  and  Misfortunes,  III,  59 

Paint,  how  to  be  avoided,  III,  237 
Play-house,  a  Caution  when  you  lead  a  Lady  out  of  it,     III,  256 

/  N  D  EX 



Quarrels  for  the  Wall  to  be  avoided,  III,  204 

Quarrels,  sham  ones.,  dangerous.  III,  206  seq. 


Riding-hood,  its  Use,  I,  209 

Rome,  the  Streets  of  it,  I,  94 

Rain,  Signs  of  it,  I,  157  seq. 

Rakes,  how  they  avoid  a  Dun,  II,  161 

Raphael  Urbin,  II,  364 

Rakes,  their  Time  of  walking,  III,  321 

Regulus,  his  Death,  III,  334 

Reader,  the  Author  addresses  him,  III,  393 


Scavengers,  their  Duty,  I,  15 

Stage-Coaches,  an  Observation  upon  them,  I,  25  seq. 

Shoe-cleaning  Boys,  the  Time  of  their  first  Appearance,    I,  23  seq. 

Shoes,  when  to  provide  them,  ib. 

-  What  sort  improper  for  Walkers,  ib. 

What  proper  for  Dancers,  ib. 

What  most  proper  for  Walkers,  ib. 

Surtout  Kersey,  its  Description,  I,  58 

Shower,  a  Man  in  one  described,  I,  195 

Shins,  what  they  betoken  when  scorch V,  I,  137 

Signs  creaking,  what  they  betoken,  I,  158 

Superstition  to  be  avoided,  I,  175 

Swithin  Saint,  bis  Festival,  I,  188 

Smallcoal-Man,  by  whom  to  be  avoided,  II,  35 

Summer  foreign  to  the  Author  s  Design,  II,  193 

Signs,  the  Use  of  them,  II,  67 

Seven  Dials  of  St.  Giles\r  Parish  described,  II,  73  seq. 

Stockings,  how  to  prevent  their  being  spatter  d,  II,  98 

Streets,  narrow  ones  to  be  avoided,  II,  108 

Snowy  Weather,  II,  201 

Shoes,  how  to  free  them  from  Snow,  II,  204 

Snow-Balls,  Coachmen  pelted  with  them,  II,  208 

School- Boys  mischievous  injrosty  W eat  her }  II,  211 

R  I 

Sempstress,  the  Description  of  her  in  a  frosty  Morning,        II,  215 

Saturday,  by  what  Observations  to  know  it,  II,  302 

Spring,  the  Cries  then  in  Use,  II,  306 

Streets  formerly  Noblemens  Houses,  II,  361  seq. 

Sempstress,  Advice  to  her,  II,  219 

Swords  silver,  lure  Thieves,  III,  53 

Street,  how  to  cross  it,  III,  170 

Scylla  and  Charybdis,  III,  183 

Street,  where  to  cross  it  by  Night ;  III,  325 

Scowrers,  a  Sett  of  Rakes,  III,  325 

Snow-Hill,  III,  330 

Trivia,  the  Goddess  of  Streets  and  High-Ways,  invoked,  I,  5 

Trades  prejudicial  to  IValkers,  II,  27 

Tradesman,  in  what  to  be  trusted,  II,  71 

Theseus  in  the  Labyrinth  of  Crete,  II,  84 

Thames-Street,  II,  123 

Trades  offensive  to  the  Smell,  II,  123  seq. 

Tea-Drinkers,  a  necessary  Caution  to  them,  II,  176 

Thames,  Coaches  driven  over  it,  II,  237 

Thaw,  the  Description  of  one,  II,  277 

Thursday,  by  what  Observations  to  know  it,  II,  290 

Titian,  II,  363 

Trivia  invoked  as  Cynthia,  III,  4 

Turnstiles,  III,  108 

Tragedies,  their  Fate,  III,  415 


Umbrella,  its  Use,  I,  2 1 1 

Vulcan  in  Love  with  a  Mukmata,  I,  241  seq. 

Advice  to  him,  I,  245 

Venice,  the  Streets  of  it,  I,  97 

Vaults,  an  Observation  upon  them,  I,  172 

Vulcan  metamorphosed  to  a  Country  Farrier,  I,  249  seq. 

.  The  Inventor  of  Hob-Nails  and  Sparables,  I,  263 

The  Inventor  of  Pattens,  I,  272  seq. 

Upholder,  where  he  frequents,  II,  347 

INDEX  57 


Winter,  the  beginning  of  it  described,  I,  i  seq. 

Witney  Broadcloath  proper  for  Horsemen,  I,  47 

Wig  compared  to  Ale6toV  Snakes,  I,  243 

•  To  Glaucus'  Beard,  I,  245 

What  to  be  worn  in  a  Mist,  I,  1 25 

Waterman,  judicious  in  the  Weather,  I,  163 

Winds  whistling,  what  they  foretell,  I,  181 

Wall,  to  whom  to  be  given,  II,  46 

To  whom  to  be  denyd,  II,  59 

Way,  of  whom  to  be  enquired,  II,  65  seq. 

Watling-Street,  II,  121 

Walkers  inadvertent,  to  what  Misfortunes  liable,  II,  151 

Wits,  a  Caution  to  them,  II,  175 

Walker  distressed  by  a  Foot-Ball,  II,  226 

Watermen,  their  'Dominion  invaded,  II,  239 

Wednesday,  how  to  know  it,  II,  297 

Walkers,  their  Happiness,  II,  379 

•  Free  from  Diseases,  II,  383  seq. 

Water,  the  Danger  of  being  upon  it,  II,  393 
Walking  advantageous  to  Learning,                                II,  429  seq. 

Women,  the  ill  Consequence  of  gating  on  them,  III,  101 

Wheel-barrows,  how  they  prejudice  Walkers,  III,  117 

Whore,  how  to  know  one,  III,  267 

Watchmen,  the  Method  of  treating  with  them,  III,  307 

Their  Signal  to  their  Fellows,  III,  311 

What  to  do,  if  taken  by  them,  III,  313  seq. 

Wall,  when  to  keep  it,  III,  205 

Yeoman,  a  dreadful  Story  of  one,  III,  285  seq. 


THE  following  abbreviations  are  used  in  the  notes  : 

L.P.P.  =  London  Past  and  Present.  S.  =  Spectator. 

N.E.D.  =  Afro;  English  Dictionary.  T.  =  Toiler. 

D.N.B  =  Dictionary  of  National  Biography. 


TITLE.  The  title  Trivia  is  probably  not  intended  to  be  the  name  of  the  goddess, 
but  the  plural  of  trivium,  *  a  place  where  three  roads  meet,'  commonly  used  in 
Latin  in  the  plural,  with  the  meaning  '  public  streets,'  as  in  Horace,  Ars  Poetica, 
245,  innati  triviis  ac  paene  forenses.  So  in  the  quotation  at  the  end  of  the  Adver 

MOTTO.  §)uo  te,  Moeri,  pedesl  *  Whither  away  on  foot,  Moeris?  following 
the  road  to  town  ? '  The  quotation,  which  is  the  first  line  of  Virgil's  ninth 
Eclogue,  is  very  appropriate.  Moeris  is  a  farmer •,  coming  to  town,  on  foot. 

Bernard  Lintott.  Barnaby  Bernard  Lintot  (1675-1736)  published  poems  for 
Pope,  Gay,  Farquhar,  and  others,  including  Pope's  translation  of  Homer.  Cf. 
Pope,  Dunciad,  II,  53  seq. 

the  Cross-Keys,  in  full  cthe  Cross  Keys  and  Cushion.'  Bernard  Lintot 
advertised  his  address  in  1 707  as  '  the  Cross  Keys  and  Cushion  next  Nando's 
Coffee  House,  Temple  Bar.'  The  Cushion  may  be  seen  in  the  engraving  on  the 
title-page  of  the  first  edition.  In  the  second  edition  it  has  been  superseded  by  the 
engraving  of  a  street  scene.  In  a  note  on  the  Dunciad,  II,  82,  '  Down  with  the 
Bible,  up  with  the  Pope's  arms,'  Pope  remarks,  *  The  Bible,  Curl's  sign ;  the 
Cross- Keys,  Lintot's.' 

the  Temple  Gates,  i.e.,  the  gates  leading  from  Fleet  Street  into  the  Temple. 
4  Moses  Greenbag,'  in  Steele's  paper  (S.  498),  was  diverting  himself  with  a 
pennyworth  of  walnuts  '  at  the  Temple-Gate,'  when  he  saw  the  puer  Automedon 
take  the  reins  from  the  hackney  coachman. 


Dr.  Swift.  Gay  seems  to  have  been  indebted  chiefly  to  Swift's  Description  of  the 
Morning,  written  in  April  1709,  and  first  printed  in  The  Toiler,  and  Description 
of  a  City  Shower,  in  imitation  of  Virgil's  Georgics,  written  in  O&ober  1710,  and 
first  printed  in  The  Tatler. 

Non  tu,  etc.,  from  Virgil,  Eclogue  HI,  26-7.  *  Used  you  not,  ignoramus  as  you 
are,  to  murder  some  wretched  song  on  skirling  pipe  at  the  corners  of  the  streets?  ' 
[The  first  edition  has  the  misprint  Stidenti,  which  is  corr-efted  in  the  second.] 




Line  5.  Trivia,  epithet  of  Diana  as  worshipped  where  three  ways  met. 

13.  Pavior,  may  be  seen  at  work  in  the  frontispiece  to  the  second  edition. 

15.  Kennels.  'A  kennel,  in  the  sense  of  gutter,  represents  the  Anglo-French 
canel-,  but  the  Old  French  form  was  chanel,  which  is  our  channel,  and  there  is 
yet  a'third  form,  viz.  canal,  which  is  very  close  to  the  Latin  canalis.  The  kennel 
for  a  dog  is  from  Norman  ken,  the  equivalent  of  French  chten  ;  the  Late  Latin 
canlle  is  explained  as  meaning  «  domus  cams"  in  a  glossary  '  (Skeat,  The  Science 
of  Etymology,  p.  8). 

20.  Civic  Crown.  The  corona  cluica  among  the  Romans  was  made  of  oak 
leaves,  and  was  given  for  saving  a  citizen's  life  in  battle.  Gay  means  that  Trivia 
will  save  his  countrymen  from  the  dangers  of  London.  Cf.  Ill,  397-8,  *  Yet 
shall  I  bless  my  Labours,  if  Mankind  |  Their  future  Safety  from  my  Dangers 

23.  Black  Youth.    The  anonymous  author  of  The  Art  of  Living  in  London 
(ed.  2,  1793),  p.  9,  speaks  of  'some  son  of  Fleet-street,  or  the  Strand,  |  Some 
sooty  son,  with  implements  at  hand,  |  Who  hourly  watches  with  no  other  view,  | 
Than  to  re-polish  the  bespatter'd  shoe.' 

27.  the  Mall.  'The  first  Mall,  originally  a  part  of  St.  James's  Park,  was  the 
street  now  called  Pall  Mall.    It  was  so  named  from  having  been  enclosed  for 
playing  the  game  of  pall-mall,  a  game  somewhat  resembling  the  modern  croquet, 
played  with  a  wooden  ball  and  mallets,  the  ball  being  struck  through  an  iron 
ring  or  arch,  "in  long  alleys  made  on  purpose,  which  are  surrounded  by  a  pal 
ing."   Charles  II,  for  whom  the  Mall  in  the  park  was  formed,  was  very  fond  of 
the  game  '  (L.P.P.). 

28.  Oyster  Cries.  For  a  description  of  'brown  Ostrea'  see  Book  III,  185-94. 
4  A  great  critic,'  in  a  treatise  against  operas,  '  has  made  a  very  elaborate  digression 
upon  the  London  cries,  wherein  he  has  shown  from  reason  and  philosophy  why 
oysters  are  cried  .  .  .  with  an  accent  and  tone  neither  natural  to  man  or  beast  ' 
(T,  4).    in  Lauron-Tempest's  Cryes  of  the  City  of  London  (1711)  one  of  the 
engravings   represents  a  man  with  a  wheelbarrow  of  oysters,  and  the  cry  is 
4  Twelve  Pence  a  Peck  Oysters.' 

30.  Spanish  Hide.  Stubbes,  Anatomie  of  Abuses  (ed.  Turnbull,  p.  72),  speaks 
of  women's  shoes  as  'some  of  Spanishe  leather,  and  some  of  Englishe.'  Howell, 
Familiar  Letters  (ed.  Jacobs,  p.  87),  'they  ruffle  in  Silks  and  Sattins,  and  wear 
good  Spanish  leather  shoes.'    Cf.  Massinger,  The  City  Madam,  I,  {,97.   Planchc, 
Cyclopaedia  of  Costume,  quotes  from  Malcolm,  Anecdotes  of  the  Manners  and  Cus 
toms  of  London  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,  to  the  effea  that  Spanish  leather  shoes 
laced  with  gold  were  common  about  this  time. 

31.  wooden  Heel,  In  Dekker's  Shoemaker's  Holiday,  III,  iv,  35,  Simon  Eyre's 
wife  asks  Roger,  the  journeyman,  to  let  her  have  '  a  pair  of  shoes  made,  cork, 
good  Roger,  wooden  heel  too.'   In  a  letter  to  The  Spectator  '  an  old  Fellow,  ex 
tremely  troubled  with   the  Gout'  writes:    'Having   always  a  strong   Vanity 
towards  being  pleasing  in  the  Eyes  of  Women,  I  never  have  a  Moment's  Ease, 
but  I  am  mounted  in  high-heel'd  Shoes  with  a  glased  Wax-leather  Instep'  (S.  48). 
'Jack  Lightfoot  '  (ib.  332),  escapes  the  Sweaters  with  the  '  Dislocation  of  one  of 
my  Shoe-heels.' 

32.  'scalkfd  Top.    A  Lawyer  of  the  Middle  Temple  riding  the  Western 
Urcuit  describes  (S.  129)  the  dress  in  the  country  as  behind  the  London  fashion 

NO  TE  S  61 

and  scarcely  changed  since  the  time  of  Charles  the  Second,  but  meets  to  his  sur 
prise  'a  Gentleman  that  had  accoutered  himself  in  a  Night-Cap  Wig, a  Coat  with 
long  Pockets  and  slit  Sleeves,  and  a  pair  of  Shoes  with  high  Scallop  Tops,'  who 
was  resolved  to  c  live  and  die  in  the  Mode.'  *  Will  Sprightly'  (S.  319)  claims  to 
have  c  struck  a  bold  stroke '  by  introducing  the  *  Long  Pocket '  and  the  '  Frosted 
Button.'  About  the  same  time  he  produced  *  the  Scallop  Flap,  the  Knotted 
Cravat,  and  made  a  fair  Push  for  the  Silver-clocked  Stocking.' 

35.  Should  the  big  Laste,  etc.,  perhaps  suggested  by  Horace's  calceus  olim  \  si 
pede  maior  erlt  subuertet,  si  minor  uret  (Ep.  I,  x,  42). 

40.  shooting  Corn.  Cf.  The  Shepherd's  Week  (First  Pastoral,  27-8),  «  He  first 
that  useful  secret  did  explain,  |  That  pricking  corns  foretold  the  gath'ring  rain.' 
Swift,  A  City  Shower  (T.  238),  '  A  coming  shower  your  shooting  corns  presage.' 

43.  Doily,  the  name  of  a  woollen  stuff,  'at  once  cheap  and  genteel,'  intro 
duced  for  summer  wear  in  the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  century  (N.E.D.). 
Named  from  the  maker  Doily  or  Doyley,  a  linen-draper  in  the  Strand.   'The 
famous  Doily  is  still  fresh  in  every  one's  Memory,  who  raised  a  Fortune  by  find 
ing  out  Materials  for  such  Stuffs  as  might  at  once  be  cheap  and  genteel '  (S.  283). 

44.  Drugget,  formerly  a  kind  of  stuff,  all  of  wool,  or  mixed  of  wool  and  silk 
or  wool  and  linen,  used  for  wearing  apparel  (N.E.D.). 

fence,  keep  out,  ward  off,  repel.  Greene,  Shepherd's  Ode  66  (1592),  'a 
cloak  of  grey  fenc'd  the  rain'  (N.E.D.).  Cf.  Lat.  defendo. 

45.  Frieze,  a  kind  of  coarse  woollen  cloth,  with  a  nap,  usually  on  one  side 
only  (N.E.D.).     Tom  Brown,  Comical  View,  in  the  heading  to  his  predictions 
for  the  week  from  October  16  to  October  22,  says,  'several  of  Her  Majesties 
good  Subjects  have  put  on  their  Frieze  Coats,  expecting  it  should  rain'  (Works, 
I,  163).    'It  being  a  very  cold  Day  when   he   made  his    Will,' Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley  '  left  for  Mourning,  to  every  Man  in  the  Parish,  a  great  Frieze  Coat ' 


46.  Camlet^  a  name  originally  applied  to  some  beautiful  and  costly  eastern 
fabric,  afterwards  to  imitations  and  substitutes,  the  nature  of  which  has  changed 
many  times  over  (N.E.D.).    According  to  Johnson,  'a  kind  of  stuff  originally 
made  by  a  mixture  of  silk  and  camel's  hair;  it  is  now  made  with  wool  and  silk.' 
When  Swift  went  for  a  riding  party  with  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Shrewsbury, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Masham,  and  Dr.  Arbuthnot,  he  wore  a  coat  of  '  light  camlet, 
faced  with  red  velvet,  and  silver  buttons'  (Journal  to  Stella,  4  O&ober  1 711). 

cockled,  puckered,  shrivelled.  Cf.  Skelton,  Why  Come  Te,  285,  '  nat  wortrj  a 
cockly  fose '  [/.*.,  fringe]. 

47.  Wltney^  in  Oxfordshire,  long  famous  for  the  manufacture  of  blankets 
and  rough  coatings. 

50.  Russia's  Bear.    Cf.  Pope,  Essay  on  Man,  III,  44,  '  The  fur  that  warms 
a  monarch  warmed  a  bear.' 

51.  Roquelaure,  a  cloak  reaching   to  the   knee,  worn  by  men  during  the 
eighteenth  century  and  the  early  part  of  the  nineteenth.    Named  after  the  Duke 
of  Roquelaure,  1656-1738  (N.E.D.). 

53.  Bavaroy,  a  kind  of  cloak  or  surtout.  Probably  from  Fr.  bavarois,  Bavarian 

57.  (Footnote.)  Joseph,  a  long  cloak,  worn  chiefly  by  women  in  the  eighteenth 
century  when  riding,  and  on  other  occasions;  it  was  buttoned  all  the  way  down 
the  front,  and  had  a  small  cape  (N.E.D.).  In  Shadwell's  Squire  of  Alsatia  (II,  i), 
when  Sir  William  Belfond  unexpectedly  appears  at  the  door,  his  elder  son 


exclaims,  'Ounds!  Who's  here?  my  Father!  Lolpoop,  Lolpoop,  hide  me:  give 

58.  Surtout,  an  over-coat  (Fr.  sur  tout}.    One  of  Will  Sprightly's  rivals  was 
4 disingenuous  enough'  to  steal  his  suggestion  about  *  the  new-fashioned  Surtout ' 
(S.  319).  The  final  /  was  sounded.    See  the  last  line  of  Book  II,  where  it  rhymes 
with  foot. 

59.  Kersey,  a  kind  of  coarse  narrow  cloth,  woven  from  long  wool  and  usually 
ribbed.    Possibly  named  from  the  village  of  Kersey  in  Suffolk  (N.E.D.). 

61.  Cane.  'Irus  came  out  thoroughly  equipped  from  Head  to  Foot,  with  a 
little  oaken  Cane,  in  the  form  of  a  substantial  Man  that  did  not  mind  his  Dress, 
turned  of  fifty'  (S.  264). 

62.  Chairmen,  i.e.,  bearers  of  sedan  chairs.    c  The  sedan  chair  was  a  convey 
ance  that  was  getting  into  vogue  in  Anne's  reign.    Taking  its  name  from  the 
town  of  Sedan  in  France,  it  was  first  used  in  England  in  158?,  and  in  London 
in  1623.   In  1711  an  Aft  (9  Anne,  c.  23)  was  passed  licensing  200  public  sedan 
chairs  at   ten   shillings   each  yearly,  and  their  fare  was  settled  at  is.  a  mile. 
Next  year,  another  Aft  (10  Anne,  c.  19)  was  passed,  licensing  100  more,  but 
keeping  the  fares  unaltered  '  (Ashton,  Social  Life,  II,  177). 

the  Wall  command.  Cf.  Book  III,  153,  'Let  not  the  Chairman,  with 
assuming  Stride,  |  Press  near  the  Wall,  and  rudely  thrust  thy  Side.' 

66.  Lamp.  '  Instead  of  Lanterns,  they  set  up  in  the  streets  of  London  Lamps, 
which  by  means  of  a  very  thick  Convex  Glass  throw  out  great  Rays  of  Light, 
which  illuminate  the  Path  for  people  that  go  on  Foot  tolerably  well.    They 
begin  to  light  up  these  Lamps  at  Michaelmas,  and  continue  them  till  Lady  Day, 
they  burn  from  Six  in  the  Evening  till  Midnight,  and  from  every  third  Day 
after  the  Full  Moon  to  the'sixth  Day  after  the  New  Moon  ' — Misson  (quoted 
by  Ashton,  Social  Life,  II,  162).    Cf.  Ill,  144. 

67.  Canes  with  Amber  tipt.    Charles  Lillie,  the   famous  perfumer   in  the 
Strand,  and  chief  agent  for  The  Spectator,  so  often  referred  to  in  The  Tat/er,wd$ 
celebrated  for  his  canes.  'If  this  virtuoso  excels  in  one  thing  more  than  another, 
it  is  in  canes;  he  has  spent  his  most  seleft  hours  in  the  knowledge  of  them,  and 
is  arrived  at  that  perfeftion,  that  he  is  able  to  hold  forth  upon  canes  longer  than 
upon  any  one  subjeft  in  the  world.    Indeed  his  canes  are  so  finely  clouded,  and 
so  well  made  up,  either  with  gold  or  amber  heads,  that  I  am  of  the  opinion  it  is 
impossible  for  a  gentleman  to  walk,  talk,  sit,  or  stand,  as  he  should  do,  without 
one  of  them*  (T.  142).    In  spite  of  Bickerstaff's  raillery,  'the  amber-headed 
cane  still  maintains  its  unstable  post'  (T.  71).    The  beaux  of  the  period  used  to 
hang  the  cane  by  a  ribbon  to  the  button  of  the  waistcoat  (T.  26).    Sir  Plume 
was  justly  vain  of 'the  nice  conduft  of  a  clouded  cane'  (Pope,  Rape  of  the  Lock, 
IV,  124).    A  dozen  pairs  of  red-heeled  shoes  and  an  amber-headed  cane  are 
among   the   efFefts  of  a  deceased  beau  (T.    113).     In   Farquhar's   Recruiting 
Officer,  IV,  iii,  Sergeant  Kite  gives  an  imaginary  description  of  a  *  tall  slender 
gentleman  .  .   .  with  a  cane  hanging  upon  his  button.'    The  cane  has  *an 
amber  head  with  a  black  ribbon.' 

69.  glided  Chariots.  In  the  Dunciad  the  dunces  pour  forth  '  on  horse,  on 
foot,  in  hacks  and  gilded  chariots  '  (II,  24).  Antenor  visits  Amoret  '  in  a  gilt 
Chariot  and  new  Liveries'  (S.  401). 

72.  Whites.  White's  Chocolate  House  in  St.  James'  Street,  notorious  as  an 
aristocratic  gaming  house,  was  opened  in  1693  ty  Francis  White  at  a  house  on 
the  site  of  the  present  Boodle's  Club  (38  St.  James'  Street).  It  was  removed  in 

NO  r E  S  63 

1697  to  the  site  of  the  present  Arthur's  Club  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street. 
Swift  calls  it  cthe  common  Rendezvous  of  infamous  Sharpers  and  noble  Cullies,* 
and  Pope  describes  Colley  Cibber  as  *  chaired  at  White's ',  teaching  *  oaths  to 
Gamesters  and  to  Nobles  Wit '  (Dunciad,  I,  203-4).  It  was  burnt  down  in 
1733,  the  beginning  of  the  fire  being  depidled  in  Plate  6  of  Hogarth's  Rake's 
Progress.  See  Wheatley,  Hogarth's  London,  293-8,  and  London  Past  and  Present, 
III,  491-6. 

76.  beneath  their  Arm.  Bickerstaff  licenses  the  bearer  of  a  cane  to  pass 
through  the  streets  of  London  *  provided  that  he  does  not  walk  with  it  under  his 
arm  '  (T.  103).  Tom  Brown,  Letters  from  the  Dead  to  the  Living  (Works,  II,  9), 
describes  the  cane  of  a  beau  that  *  hung  negligently  down  in  a  string  from  his 
Right  Arm.' 

78.  Cravat  (an  application  of  the  national  name  Cravate  Croat,  Croatian), 
'came  into  vogue  in  France  in  the  seventeenth  century  in  imitation  of  the  linen 
scarf  worn  round  their  necks  by  the  Croatian  mercenaries.  When  first  intro 
duced  it  was  of  lace  or  linen,  or  of  muslin  edged  with  lace,  and  tied  in  a  bow 
with  long  flowing  ends,  and  much  attention  was  bestowed  upon  it  as  an  orna 
mental  accessory '  (N.E.D.).  'An  Academical  Beau,'  writing  from  Oxford  to 
The  Guardian  (No.  10),  1 8  March  1712-13,  claims  to  have  prepared  a  *  Treatise 
against  the  Cravat.'  Cf.  Congreve,  The  Way  of  the  World,  III,  iii,  'thou  art  so 
becravated  and  so  beperiwigged.' 

85.  Paris.     Howell,  in  his  Familiar  Letters,   I   May   1620,  describing  the 
dangers  of  the  streets  of  Paris,  says,  'this  makes  me  think  often  of  the  excellent 
nocturnal  Government  of  our  City  of  London,  where  one  may  pass  and  repass 
securely  all  hours  of  the  Night,  if  he  gives  good  words  to  the  Watch.' 

86.  Slavery  treads  the  Streets.    So  Gay,  in  his  Epistle  to  William  Pulteney 
(1720),  which  gives  a  lively  description  of  fashionable  Paris,  contrasts  the  freedom 
of  England  under  George  I  with  the  servitude  of  France  under  Louis  XV.   The 
just  and  good  king,  he  says,  'scorns  to  rule  a  wretched  race  of  slaves.' 

1 10.  Manteau,  defined  by  Phillips,  The  New  World  of  Words  (1720),  as  'a 
loose  upper  Garment,  now  generally  worn  by  Women,  instead  of  a  straight- 
body'd  Gown.'  In  1698  Farquhar  speaks  of  it  as  no  longer  distinctive  of  the 
upper  class:  ''Love.  But  was  she  a  gentlewoman?  Roe.  Psha!  no;  she  had  no 
fortune.  She  wore  indeed  a  silk  manteau  and  high-head ;  but  these  are  grown  as 
little  signs  of  gentility  now-a-days  as  that  is  of  chastity'  (Love  and  a  Bottle,!,  i). 
Gav  speaks  of '  the  manteau's  sweeping  train  '  (The  Fan,  I,  232).  It  was  often 
spelt  manto.  'Mrs.  Turnup,  the  Manto  Maker,'  is  one  of  the  characters  in 
Mrs.  Centlivre's  The  Platonick  Lady.  D'Urfey  makes  it  rhyme  with  curanto: 
'  And  now  in  Petticoat  and  Manto  |  Like  buxom  Lass,  that  trips  Curanto ' 
(Collins  Walk,  p.  115). 

115-17.  Gamester  .  .  .  Broker,  perhaps  suggested  by  Juvenal,  Sat.  I,  vv.  30-3, 

121.  Morning  Cries.  So,  when  Tom  Collin  and  the  Major  came  to  town, 
they  were  'awaked  with  London  Cryes  and  Coaches' — D'Urfey,  Collins  Walk 
through  London  (1690),  p.  45. 

126.  Wig,  long  us'd  to  Storms.  Ashton  (Social  Life,  I,  144)  quotes  an  advertise 
ment  of 'The  Secret  White  Water  to  curl  Gentlemen's  Hair,  Children's  Hair, 
or  fine  Wigs  withal,  that  are  out  of 'Curl;  ...  if  any  single  Lock  or  part  of 
a  Wig  be  out  of  Curl,  by  the  pressing  of  the  Hat  or  riding  in  windy  or  rainy 
Weather,  in  one  Night's  time  it  may  be  repaired  hereby  to  Satisfaction,' 


T  R  I  F  I  A 

ii&.  flapping  Hat.  'The  hats  were  rather  low  crowned,  made  of  felt,  with 
very  broad  flapping  brims'  (Ashton,  Social  Life,  I,  141). 

170.  open  Breast.  *  Having  the  waistcoat  unbuttoned  to  show  the  shirt  is 
very  frequently  mentioned,  but  it  was  eminently  a  young  man's  pradice'  (Social 
Life,  I,  149).  In  A  Tale  of  a  Tub,  Jack  <  in  winter  went  always  loose  and  un 
buttoned,  and  clad  as  thin  as  possible,  to  let  in  the  ambient  heat.' 

132.  defend,  ward  off,  like  Latin  defenders 

133.  certain  Signs,  from  Virgil,  Georgia,  I,  35*1,  atque  haec  ut  certis  possemus 
dlscere  signis. 

135.  Coals,  etc.,  perhaps  suggested  by  Virgil,  Georgia,  I,  390  seq.:  Ne  notturna 
quidem  carpentes  pensa  puellae  \  nesciuere  hiemem,  testa  cum  ardente  uiderent  \  scin- 
tlllare  oleum  et  putris  concrescere  fungos. 

145.  the  Mall.  Pope  (Perses  to  Mr.  C.)  speaks  of  morning  walks  along 
the  Mall,  and  Swift  in  his  Journal  to  Stella  (15  May  1711)  says:  *  When  I  pass 
the  Mall  in  the  evening  it  is  prodigious  to  see  the  number  of  ladies  walking 
there.'  He  describes  Sir  Henry  St.  John,  father  of  the  Secretary  of  State,  as  'a 
man  of  pleasure,  that  walks  the  Mall,  and  frequents  St.  James'  Coffee-house,  and 
the  chocolate-houses'  (ib.,  u  November  1710).  Cf.  Tom  Brown,  Amusements 
Serious  and  Comical  (Works,  III,  49),  *  From  hence  we  went  to  take  a  turn  in  the 
Mall ;  .  .  .  there  were  none  but  Women  there  that  Day  as  it  happen'd,  and  the 
Walks  were  cover'd  with  them.'  Congreve,  The  Way  of  the  World,  I,  ii,  *  Mir. 
Fai nail,  are  you  for  the  Mall?  Fain.  Ay,  I'll  take  a  turn  before  dinner.  Wit. 
Ay,  we'll  all  walk  in  the  Park ;  the  ladies  talked  of  being  there.' 

149.  Not  that  their  Minds,  etc.,  from  Virgil,  Ge orgies,  I,  415  seq.:  baud 
equidem  credo  quia  sit  diuinitus  illis  \  ingenium  out  rerum  fato  prudentia  ma  tor. 

153.  nodding  Coachman.  Cf.  The  Art  of  Living  in  London  (ed.  2,  1793), 
p.  22 :  '  Now  drunken  coachmen,  free  from  every  care,  |  Nod  on  their  boxes,  and 
neglect  their  fare.' 

161.  The  Bookseller.  Steele  (S.  304)  has  an  imaginary  letter  from  *  Anthony 
Title-Page,  Stationer,  in  the  Centre  of  Lincolns-Inn-Fields,'  in  which  he  states 
that  his  'Ancestor,  Crouch-back  Title-Page,  was  the  first  of  that  Vocation  in 
Britain;  who,  keeping  his  Station  (in  fair  Weather)  at  the  corner  of  Lothbury, 
was  by  way  of  Eminency  called  the  Stationer,  a  Name  which  from  him  all 
succeeding  Booksellers  have  affected  to  bear.' 

163.  the  Rails.  'Anthony  Title- Page'  says  that  the  Spectator  made  his  first 
'  rudimental  Essays  in  Spe&atorship '  in  his  shop,  where  he  often  practised  for 
hours  together,  c  sometimes  on  his  Books  upon  the  Rails.'     Cf.  Pope,  Satires  and 
Epistles,  V,  415  seq.  'And  when  I  flatter,  let  my  dirty  leaves,  |  Like  journals, 
odes, and  such  forgotten  things  I  As  Eusden,  Philips,  Settle,  writ  of  Kings,  |  Cloath 
spice,  line  trunks,  or,  flutt'ring  in  a  row,  |  Befringe  the  rails  of  Bedlam  and  Soho.' 

164.  Tilts.    Misson  (quoted  by  Ashton,  Social  Life,  II,  146),  says:  'The 
little  Boats  upon  the  Thames,  which  are  only  for  carrying  of  Persons,  are  light 
and  pretty ;  some  are  row'd  but  by  one  Man,  others  by  two ;  the  former  are 
called  Scullers,  and  the  latter  Oars.  .  .  .  You  sit  at  your^Ease  upon  Cushions, 
and  have  a  Board  to  lean  against;  but  generally  they  have  no  Covering,  unless  a 
Cloth,  which  the  Watermen  set  up  immediately,  in  case  of  Need,  over  a  few 
Hoops ;  and  sometimes  you  are  wet  to  the  Skin  for  all  this.'    For  a  long  and 
realistic  description  of  the  watermen  on  the  Thames,  see  Tom  Brown,  A  Walk 
round  London  and  Westminster  (Works,  III,  322-9).    In  A  Comical  View  of  London 
and  Westminster  (Works,  I,  174)  he  speaks  of 'the  Gravesend  Tilt-Boat,' 

NOTES  65 

1 68.  Niobe.    Cf.  Sophocles,  Antigone,  828   [of  Niobe],  Kai  viv  o/mflpoi  raico- 
[jiivav  |  we  0cme  avcty>wv,  |  \L(JJV  r  ouSa/ma  AeiTra,  rlyyct  S'  UTT'  ofypvm  TreryicAau- 
ro/£  |  Set/oaSae.  'And  the  rains  fail  not,  as  men  tell,  from  her  wasting  form, 
nor  fails  the  snow,  but  makes  wet  her  neck  beneath  her  mournful  brows.' 

169.  sweats  with  secret  Grief.  Cf.  Homer,  Iliad,  XXIV,  617  [of  Niobe],  w6a 
A/0oc  TTtp  tovaa  fleoiv  IK  Ki'$ea  Trlercm.    '  There  she,  albeit  a  stone,  broodeth  still 
over  her  troubles  from  the  gods.' 

171.  Common-shores.  ' COMMON  SHORE  [corrupted  for  Sewer} '  (Bailey). 
Cf.  Shakespeare,  Pericles,  IV,  vi,  186, c  Empty  old  receptacles,  or  common  shores, 
of  filth.'  Shirley,  Love  Tricks,  I,  i,  *  the  common  shore  of  a  city.'  Dryden,  The 
Hind  and  the  Panther,  II,  556,  '  Our  sailing  ships  like  common  shores  we  use.' 

177.  Festival  of  Paul.    The  festival  of  the  Conversion  of  St.  Paul  is  kept  on 
the  25th  of  January.    'It  has  been  an   article  of  constant  belief  in   Western 
Europe,  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and  even  down  to  our  own  time,  that   the 
whole  character  of  the  coming  year  is  prognosticated  by  the  condition  of  the 
weather  on  this  day'  (Chambers,  Book  of  Days,  I,  157).    This  belief  is  expressed 
in  the  following  monkish  verses  (quoted  /.  c.),  which  Gay  seems  to  have  adapted: 
clara  dies  Pauli  bona  tempora  denotat  anni ;  \  si  nix  uel  pluuia,  dfsignat  tempora 
cara;  |  si  fiant  nebulae,  per 'eunt  animalia  quaequej  |  si  f ant  uenti,  designat  proelia 

178.  Plenty  from  liberal  Horn,  Horace's  copia  benigno  cornu  (Carm.  I,  xvii, 

183.  Swithin's  Feast.  'The  common  adage  regarding  St.  Swithin  is  to  the 
effect  that,  as  it  rains  or  is  fair  on  St.  Swithin's  Day,  the  I5th  of  July,  there  will 
be  a  continuous  track  of  wet  or  dry  weather  for  the  forty  days  ensuing : 
'  St.  Swithin's  Day,  if  thou  dost  rain, 
For  forty  days  it  will  remain  : 
St.  Swithin's  Day,  if  thou  be  fair, 
For  forty  days  'twill  rain  nae  mair.' 

^Chambers,  Book  of  Days,  II,  61-4. 

Cf.  Brand,  Popular  Antiquities,  I,  340-2.  Churchill  (Gotham,  I,  391)  speaks 
of  'July,  to  whom,  the  Dog-star  in  her  train,  |  Saint  James  gives  oysters,  and 
Saint  Swithin  rain.' 

185.   Fleeces.     So,  in   Rural  Sports,  Gay  has  'floating  clouds  their  spongy- 
fleeces  drain.'  From  Virgil,  Georgics,  I,  397  :  tenuia nee  lanae per  caelum  uelleraferri. 
195.    Hat  unhoped.    The   brims  of  hats  were 'looped  up  or   cocked,  very 
much  at  the  fancy  of  the  wearer'  (Ashton,  Social  Life,  I,  141).    (See  note  on 
1.  128  above.) 

200.  jostle  for  the  Wall.  'Peter  Plumb,'  being  indicted  at 'the  Court  of 
Honour  '  before  Isaac  Bickerstaff,  '  Censor  of  Great  Britain,'  for  having  '  stolen 
the  wall '  from  '  Mr.  Gules,'  alleged  in  defence  '  that  he  had  taken  it  inad 
vertently,  to  save  himself  from  a  shower  of  rain  which  was  then  falling  '  (T.  256). 

203.  Aletto,  one  of  the  three  Furies.    Cf.  Virgil,  Georgics,  IV,  482 :  caeru- 
leosque  inplexae  crinibus  anguis  \  Eumenides. 

204.  Orpheus.  The  story  of  Orpheus'  essaying  to  fetch  back  his  wife  Eurydice 
from  the  dead  is  told  by  Virgil,  Georgics,  IV,  454-527,  and  by  Ovid,  Metamor 
phoses,  X,  1-85. 

205.  Glaucus'  Beard.    Glaucus,  once  a  fisherman  of  Anthedon  in  Boeotia, 
threw  himself  into  the  sea,  and  was  changed  into  a  sea-god  by  Oceanus  and 
Tethys.    '  He  was  represented  in  works  of  art  as  an  old  man  with  a  fish's  tail, 



with  sea-blue  scales,  long  hair  and  beard,  and  breast  covered  with  sea-weed  and 
shells '  (Seyffert,  Dictionary  of  Classical  Antiquities). 

207.  the  bathing  Fair,  i.e.,  Scylla,  once  a  sea-nymph,  transformed  by  Circe 
into  a  rock.  Cf.  Ovid,  Met.,  XIII,  900-68;  XIV,  1-74. 

210.  Riding-hood.    Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  *  it  being  a  very  cold  Day  when 
he  made  his  Will,  left  for  Mourning,  to  every  Man  in  his  Parish,  a  great  Frieze- 
Coat,  and  to  every  Woman  a  black  Riding-hood'  (S.  517). 

211.  Umbrella.  Cf.  Swift,  City  Showers  (T.  238), c  The  tucked-up  sempstress 
walks  with  hasty  strides,  |  While  streams  run  down  her  oiled  umbrella's  sides/ 
Ashton  (Social  Life,  I,    174),    quotes    from  The  Female  Tatler,   'The  Young 
Gentleman  belonging  to  the  Custom  House,  that  for  fear  of  rain  borrowed  the 
Umbrella  at  Will's  Coffee  House  in  Cornhill  of  the  Mistress,  is  hereby  advertised 
that  to  be  dry  from  head  to  foot  on  the  like  occasion  he  shall  be  welcome  to 
the   Maid's    Pattens.1     Tom    Brown,    Letters  from    the    Dead  to    the    Living 
(Works,  II,  164),  speaks  of 'a  Cony-wool  Umbrella.'    For  an  interesting  article 
on  the  history  of  the  umbrella,  see  Chambers,  Book  of  Days,  I,  241-4. 

212.  Pattens.  Gay  (Epistles,  III,   12)  speaks  of  himself,  with   reference  to 
Trivia,  as  one  '  who  late  Britannia 's  city  trod,  |  And  led  the  draggled  Muse, 
with  pattens  shod,  |  Through  dirty  lanes,  and  alley's  doubtful  ways.'     Dicky, 
in  Farquhar's  Sir  Harry  Wildair,  I,  i,  says  he  would  *  rather  kiss  an  English  pair 
of  pattens  than  the  finest  lady  in  France.' 

213.  Persian  Dames.  So  in  The  Fan,  3,  Gay  calls  the  umbrella  'the  wide  fan 
by  Persian  dames  display'd.' 

245.  Mulciber,  surname  of  Vulcan. 

246.  Paphlan  Spouse,  Venus,  worshipped  at  Paphos,  a  city  of  Cyprus. 

249.  Lemnian  Poufr,  Vulcan,  who  was  supposed  to  dwell  in  Lemnos,  an  island 
in  the  Aegean  Sea. 


10.  Billingsgate,  on  the  Thames,  a  little  below  London  Bridge,  the  great 
fish-market  of  London. 

11.  sallow  Milk-maid.    Steele,  on   the  contrary,  speaks  of  'a  clean   fresh- 
colour'd  Girl,  under  the  most  elegant  and  the  best-furnished  Milk-Pail  I  had 
ever  observed '  (S.  380). 

13.  Asses.  Aitken,  on  T.  224,  quotes  an  advertisement  from  the  Post-Boy, 
6  Dec.  1711,  ' Ass's  milk  to  be  had  at  Richard  Stout's,  at  the  sign  of  the  Ass, 
at  Knightsbridge,  for  three  shillings  and  sixpence  per  quart;  the  ass  to  be  brought 
to  the  buyer's  door.'  So  Pope,  Dunciad,  II,  247,  in  what  he  calls  ' a  simile  with 
a  long  tail  — c  As,  when  the  long-eared  milky  mothers  wait  |  At  some  sick  miser's 
triple-bolted  gate.'  Tom  Brown,  Amusements  Serious  and  Comical  (Works,  III,  31), 
speaks  of  an  'Advertisement  of  a  Milch- Ass,  to  be  sold  at  the  Night-Man's  in 
Whitechapel.'  Cf.  Low  Life  (1752),  '  The  keepers  of  she-asses  about  Brompton, 
Knightsbridge,  Hoxton,  and  Stepney,  are  getting  ready  to  run  with  their  cattle 
all  over  the  town  to  be  milked  for  the  benefit  of  sick  and  infirm  persons.' 

17.  Drummers.  It  was  customary  for  musicians,  especially  drummers,  to 
serenade  newly-married  couples.  In  the  sixth  plate  of  Hogarth's  Industry  and 
Idleness*  band,  including  a  butcher,  who  performs  on  marrow-bone  and  cleaver, 
is  celebrating  the  wedding  of  the  Industrious  Apprentice,  who  is  seen  at  the 
window  giving  a  coin  to  the  drummer.  See  the  description  of  the  engraving  in 

NOTES  67 

Wheatley's  Hogarth's  London,  p.  256.  Of.  Tom  Brown,  Letters  from  the  Dead 
(Works,  II,  296),  *  as  for  Drums,  you  have  a  Set  of  them  under  every  Devil's 
Window,  ratling  and  thumping  like  a  Consort  of  his  Majesty's  Rat-tat-too Js  at  an 
English  Wedding.'  Garth,  The  Dispensary ',  III,  57, c  Drums,  Trumpets,  Haut 
boys,  wake  the  slumb'ring  Pair.' 

1 8.  Vellom-Thunder.  So  T7ie  Spectator,  617,  speaks  of  the  *  Parchment  Thun 
der'  of  drummers. 

19.  Sounds  like  these.    This  seems  to  have  been  suggested  by  an  imaginary 
letter  from  '  Robin  Bridegroom '  in  Steele's  paper  (S.  364),  in  which  he  says :  *  I 
was  marry'd  on  Sunday  last,  and  went  peaceably  to  bed ;  but,  to  my  Surprize, 
was  awaken'd  the  next  Morning  by  the  Thunder  of  a  Set  of  Drums.    These 
warlike  Sounds  (methinks)  are  very  improper  in  a  Marriage-Consort,  and  give 
great  Offence;  they  seem  to  insinuate,  that  the  Joys  of  this  State  are  short,  and 
that  Jars  and  Discord  soon  ensue.' 

22.  breathless  Hawker.  Addison  (S.  251)  complains  that  there  was  *  no  just 
Time  nor  Measure '  in  the  London  street  cries.  *  Our  News  should  indeed  be 
published  in  a  very  quick  Time,  because  it  is  a  Commodity  that  will  not  keep 
cold.  It  should  not,  however,  be  cried  with  the  same  Precipitation  as  Fire:  yet 
this  is  generally  the  Case.'  Cf.  S.  150,  452.  So  Pope  (Prologue  to  the  Satires, 
217)  speaks  of '  smoaking  forth,  a  hundred  hawkers'  load,  |  On  wings  of  wind 
came  flying  all  abroad.' 

29.  Perfumer's.  Among  the  commodities  sold  by  *  Mr  Charles  Lillie,  the 
perfumer  at  the  corner  of  Beaufort  Buildings,'  are  c  amber,  orange-flower,  musk, 
civet-violet ;  wash-balls  perfumed,  camphored,  and  plain ;  and  snuffs,  Barcelona, 
Seville,  musty,  plain,  and  Spanish'  (T.  101.  Cf.  94).  The  sub-title  of  The 
French  Perfumer  (1696)  is,  *  teaching  the  several  ways  of  extracting  the  Odours 
of  Drugs  and  Flowers,  and  making  all  the  Compositions  of  Perfumes  for  Powder, 
Wash-balls,  Essences,  Oyls,  Wax,  Pomatum,  Paste,  Queen  of  Hungary's  Rosa 
Solis,  and  other  Sweet  Waters.  The  Manner  of  preparing  Sweet  Toilets,  Boxes, 
etc.,  with  the  Preparations  and  use  of  Perfumes  of  all  kinds  whatsoever.  Also 
how  to  Colour  and  Scent  Gloves  and  Fans.  Together  with  the  Secret  of 
Cleansing  Tobacco,  and  Perfuming  it  for  all  sorts  of  Snuff,  Spanish,  Roman,  etc.* 

33.  Chimney-sweeper.  Cf.Tom  Brown  (Works,  IV,  299),  *  about  two  months 
ago  he  put  on  a  Milk-white  Suit,  designing  to  shew  himself  in  it  that  Evening 
in  the  Park  .  .  .  Coming  by  Catherine- Street,  a  sawcy  impudent  Chimney- 
Sweeper  daub'd  his  Coat.' 

35.  Small-coal.  '  Retailers  of  Small-coal '  are  mentioned  with  the  Chimney 
sweeper  in  Addison's  paper  on  London  cries  (S.  251)  as  having  no  certain  pitch, 
but  crying  sometimes  in  the  deepest  base,  and  sometimes  in  the  sharpest  treble. 
Pope  (Moral  Essays,  III,  62)  satirizes  Edward  Wortley  Montague  as  *  Worldly 
crying  coals  from  street  to  street.'  Tom  Brown,  in  an  imaginary  letter  *  to  his 
Mistress,  upon  seeing  his  Rival  go  into  her  Lodgings,'  begs  her  to  persuade  him 
that  c  the  Gallant  was  the  Fellow  that  furnishes  you  with  Small-coal '  (Works, 

in,  244). 

44.  Hangman,  executioner.  Shakespeare,  Macbeth,  II,  ii,  28,  '  As  they  had 
seen  me  with  those  hangman's  hands.' 

52.  the  Lame  proteft.  Steele  (S.  354)  contrasts  the  modesty  of  the  young 
men  in  the  streets  of  Sparta,  as  described  by  Xenophon,  with  the  coarse  practical 
jokes  played  by  young  fellows  in  London  on  country  visitors.  He  attributes 
their  behaviour  to  '  an  Affectation  of  Smartness,  Wit,  and  Courage.'  Otway,  he 


says  '  makes  a  Man,  to  boast  his  Agility,  trip  up  a  Beggar  on  Crutches.'  The 
reference  is  to  Friendship  in  Fashion,  III,  i,  where  Malagene  describes,  as  a  good 
jest,  how,  to  show  his  parts,  he  tripped  up  both  the  wooden  legs  of  a  lame  man 
who  asked  his  chanty,  and  'walked  off  gravely  about  his  business.' 

54.  mantling  Peruke.  Addison  describes  a  rural  squire  whose  '  periwig  fell 
in  a  very  considerable  bush  upon  each  shoulder'  (T.  96). 

56.  red-heel9 d  Shoes.  Wearing  red-heeled  shoes,  and  hanging  the  cane  on 
the  button,  were  '  essential  parts  of  the  habit  belonging  to  the  order  of  "  smart 
fellows  "  '  (T.  26).  So  c  red-heeled  shoes,  and  a  hat  hung  upon  one  side  of  the 
head,  shall  signify  a  Smart '  (T.  96).  In  the  inventory  of  the  effects  of  a  deceased 
beau  are  'a  dozen  pair  of  red-heeled  shoes'  (T.  113).  Isaac  Bickerstaff  claims, 
as  one  result  of  his  censorship  of  dress,  that  '  there  is  not  a  pair  of  red  heels  to  be 
seen  within  ten  miles  of  London'  (T.  162).  Addison  declines  '  to  sink  the 
Dignity  of  this  my  Paper  with  Reflections  upon  Red-heels  or  Top-knots '  (S.  16). 

59.  the  Bully.    So  Tom  Brown,  in  Amusements  Serious  and  Comical,  says: 
c  Turn  out  there  you  Country  Putt,  says  a  Bully,  with  a   Sword  two  yards  long 
jarring  at  his  heels,  and  throws  him  into  the  Kennel'  (Works,  III,  15). 

60.  Cocks  his  broad  Hat.    Among  'many  weighty  points  that  daily  perplex 
the  youth  of  the  British  nation,'  which  Bickerstaff  proposes  to  discuss,  is  c  How 
a  man  should  resent  another's  staring  and  cocking  a  hat  in  his  face  '  (T.  250). 
Colley  Gibber  (Apology,  p.  195)  says  of  Powel,  the  actor,  that  '  he  cock'd  his  Hat, 
and  in  his  Passion  walk'd  off  to  the 'Service  of  the  Company  in  Lincoln's  Inn 

63.  never  turns  again.  The  cowardice  of  the  bully  is  thus  described  in  The 
Country  Gentleman's  Vade  Mecum  (1699),  p.  43:  'his  way  of  proceeding  with 
you,  is  either  to  tread  on  your  Toes,  cough  in  your  Face,  ruffle,  crowd,  or  dis 
compose  you.  But  after  all,  if  he  finds  you  resent  his  Behaviour  and  grow  rough 
with  him  upon  the  Matter,  he  flies  presently  to  his  Grand  Reserve,  begs  your 
Pardon,  and  sneaks  off.' 

'  67.  Signs.  '  The  street  signs,  which  were  necessary,  as  houses  were  not  num 
bered,  were  very  numerous  and  large,  and  some  were  exceedingly  costly.  Misson 
was  very  much  struck  with  them.  "  At  London  they  are  commonly  very  large, 
and  jutt  out  so  far,  that  in  some  narrow  Streets  they  touch  one  another ;  nay, 
and  run  across  almost  quite  to  the  other  Side.  They  are  generally  adorn'd  with 
Carving  and  Gilding;  and  there  are  several  that,  with  the  Branches  of  Iron 
which  support  them,  cost  above  a  hundred  Guineas'"  (Ashton,  Social  Life,  II, 
159).  Cf.  Addison  (S.  28). 

69.  Prentices.  Swift  calls  them  '  the  gibing  prentices '  (Tale  of  a  Tub,  Sett. 
XI),  and  '  Sophrosunius '  (S.  354)  complains  that  '  the  Prentice  speaks  his  dis 
respect  by  an  extended  finger.' 

75.  sevn  Dials.  'Seven  Dials,  an  open  area  in  the  parish  of  St.-Giles-in-the 
Fields,  on  what  was  once  "  Cock  and  Pye  Fields,"  from  which  seven  streets  .  .  . 
radiate,  and  so  called  because  there  was  formerly  a  column  in  the  centre,  on  the 
summit  of  which  were  (as  was  always  said)  seven  sun-dials,  with  a  dial  facing 
each  of  the  streets'  (L.P.P.).  Evelyn  (5  Od.  1694)  'went  to  see  the  building 
beginning  neere  St.  Giles's,  where  7  streets  make  a  star  from  a  Doric  pillar  placed 
in  the  middle  of  a  circular  area.' 

79.  dwells  on  ev'ry  Sign.  So  Steele  says  :  '  If  a  Country  Gentleman  appears  a 
little  curious  in  observing  the  Edifices,  Signs,  Clocks,  Coaches,  and  Dials,  it  is 
not  to  be  imagined  how  the  Polite  Rabble  of  this  Town,  who  are  acquainted 

NOTES,  69 

with  these  Objects,  ridicules  his  Rusticity  '  (S.  354).  For  an  amusing  description 
of  a  countryman  in  London  see  Macaulay,  History  of  England,  Ch.  Ill  (Pop. 
Ed.,  I,  181). 

86.  Ariadne.  Cf.  Ovid,  Heroides,  XI. 

90.  Fob,  c  a  small  pocket  formerly  made  in  the  waist-band  of  the  breeches, 
and  used  for  carrying  a  watch,  money,  or  other  valuables.'  (N.E.D.). 

92.  slabby, c  plashy,  full  of  Dirt '  (Bailey).    Cf.  1.  410. 

98.  the  Post.  Posts  used  to  mark  the  edge  of  the  pavement  in  most  of  the 
London  streets.  They  may  be  seen  in  the  engraving  on  the  frontispiece  of  the 
second  edition  of  Trivia,  and  in  plate  12  of  Hogarth's  Industry  and  Idleness.  So 
in  III,  156,  *  where  Posts  defend  the  Street.' 

100.   The  Board,  i.e.,  the  pillory. 

102.  Eggs.  Cf.  Tom  Brown,  A  Collection  of  Letters  (Works,  I,  242):  c  He 
chanc'd  to  be  in  a  Gentleman's  Company  that  fainted  away  at  the  Sight  of  a  few 
Eggs.  What  does  my  Doctor  do  upon  this,  but  whipt  streight  into  Essex,  where 
the  Gentleman  liv'd;  enquires  privately  into  the  secret  History  of  his  Family,  and 
finds  his  Grandfather  had  stood  in  the  Pillory  for  forging  a  Bond.'  Pope,  The 
Dunciad,  III,  34,  c  As  thick  as  eggs  at  Ward  in  pillory.'  Epilogue  to  the  Satires, 

II,  189,  'And  must  no  egg  in  Japhet's  face  be  thrown?' 

109.  the  lashing  Whip,  etc.  See  Hogarth's  Four  Stages  of  Cruelty,  the  Second 

HO.  the  swelling  Vein.  So,  in  Rural  Sports,  II,  303,  Gay  speaks  of  *  the 
lab'ring  horse  with  swelling  veins.' 

115.  the  Samian,  i.e.,  the  Greek  philosopher,  Pythagoras,  born  at  Samos  about 
580  B.C.,  who  is  said  to  have  taught  the  doctrine  of  the  transmigration  of  souls. 
So  Dryden,  Of  the  Pythagorean  Philosophy  (from  Ovid,  Met.,  XV),  240  seq., 
4  Here  and  there  th'  unbodied  spirit  flies,  |  By  time,  or  force,  or  sickness  dis- 
possess'd,  |  And  lodges,  where  it  lights,  in  man  or  beast.'  Addison  quotes  this 
passage  from  Dryden  in  S.  211. 

121.  Catling-street,  c  was  two  centuries  ago  notorious  ...  for  its  incon 
venient  and  almost  dangerous  narrowness'  (L.P.P.). 

122.  Cheap-side.    Howes  (1631)  speaks  of  Cheapside  as  'worthily  called  the 
Beauty  of  London,'  and  Strype  (1721)  says,  c  Cheapside  is  a  very  stately  spacious 
street,  adorned  with  lofty  buildings'  (L.P.P.)    Plate  12  of  Hogarth's  Industry 
and  Idleness  is  a  c  brilliant  representation  of  the  west  end  of  Cheapside '  (Wheat- 
ley,  Hogarth's  London,  260). 

123.  that  rugged  Street.    <  Thames  Street,  on  the 'north  bank  of  the  Thames, 
stretches  from  Blackfriars  Bridge  to  the  Tower,  and  is  rather  more  than  a  mile 
in  length '  (L.P.P.).    Tom  Brown  (Works,  IV,  128)  speaks  of  « a  jolly  red-fac'd 
Preacher  at  the  upper-end  of  Thames-street? 

124.  Fleet-ditch,  a  stream  which  rose  in  the  Hampstead  and  Highgate  Hills, 
and  flowed  into  the  Thames  at  Blackfriars.    It  became  a  *  receptacle  for  every 
description  of  tanners'  refuse,  house  sewage,  and  all  kinds  of  offal '  (L.P.P.). 
Pope  (Dunciad,  II,  271-4),  speaks  of  it  as  *  the  king  of  dykes,'  and  describes  it  as 
rolling  *  the  large  tribute  of  dead  dogs  to  Thames.'    So  Garth  (The  Dispensary, 

III,  124)  says  that  it  'descends  in  sable  Streams,  |  To  wash  his  sooty  Naiads  in 
the  Thames';  and   Dicky,  in  Farquhar's  Sir  Harry  Wildair,  I,  i,  on  returning 
to  London  from  the  Continent,  sniffs  with  delight  '  the  sweet  smoke  of  Cheap- 
side  and  the  dear  perfume  of  Fleet-ditch.'    Cf.  Beresford  Chancellor,  Annals  of 
Fleet  Street,  2$-J. 


132.  Cornavian  Cheeses.  Cf.  The  Connoisseur,  13  June  I754>'I  h»d  rather 
live  all  my  days  among  the  cheesemongers'  shops  in  Thames  Street,  than  pass 
such  another  spring  in  this  filthy  country  *  (L.P.P.). 

134.  Chaplain.    Macaulay  in  his  description  of  England  in  1685  (History, 
Ch.  Ill),  says  of  the  domestic  chaplain  :  *  he  might  fill  himself  with  the  corned 
beef  and  the  carrots:  but  as  soon  as  the  tarts  and  cheesecakes  made  their  appear 
ance,  he  quitted  his  seat,  and  stood  aloof  till  he  was  summoned  to  return  thanks 
for  the  repast,  from  a  great  part  of  which  he  had  been  excluded.'    This  custom 
of  the  chaplain's  withdrawing  after  the  first  course  forms  the  subject  of  papers  by 
Addison  and  Steele  in  The  Tatler  (255  and  258).    Addison  quotes  from  Oldham's 
Satires:  'Soon  as  the  tarts  appear,  Sir  Crape,  withdraw,  |  These  dainties  are  not 
for  a  spiritual  maw.'    So  Garth,  Dispensary ,  I,  149-50:  *  Constant  at  Feasts,  and 
each  Decorum  knew ;  |  And  soon  as  the  Dessert  appeared,  withdrew.'    Sir  William 
Belfond's  elder  son  in  ShadwelPs  Squire  of  Alsatia,  I,  i,  *  rises  at  second  Course, 
takes  away  his  Plate ;  says  Grace,  and  saves  me  the  Charge  of  a  Chaplain.' 

135.  Pell-mell^  'a  spacious  street  extending    from  the  foot  of  St.   James's 
Street  to  the  foot  of  the  Haymarket,  and  so  called  from  a  game  of  that  name, 
somewhat  similar  to  croquet,  introduced  into  England  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I, 
perhaps  earlier  .  .  .  Pell  Mell,  it  will  be  seen,  was  the  genteel  pronunciation  of 
the  name  in  the  days  of  Queen  Anne,  and  so  it  has  continued  to  be  down  to  the 
present  day.    "If  we  must  have  a  villa  in  summer  to  dwell,  |  O  give  me  the 
sweet  shady  side  of  Pell  Mell."  Captain  Morris,  The  Contrast'  (L.P.P.). 

138.  Carmen.    So  Tom  Brown,  Amusements  Serious  and  Comical  (Works,  III, 
15),  'Stand  up  there,  you  blind  Dog,  says  a  Carman,  will  you  have  the  Cart 
squeeze  your  Guts  out  ? ' 

139.  Chairs.   Similarly  Tom  Brown  (/.  c.)  describes  the  occupants  of  sedan 
chairs:  'Some  Carry,  others  are  Carried:   Make  way  there,  says  a  gouty-leg'd 
Chairman,  that  is  carrying  a  Punk  of  Quality  to  a  Morning's  Exercise  [/.*., 
morning  service  at  a  place  of  worship];  or  a  Bartholomew-Baby  Beau*[/.*.,  like 
a  doll  bought  at  Bartholomew  Fair],  newly  launch'd  out  of  a  Chocolate-house, 
with  his  Pockets  as  empty  as  his  Brains.' 

155.  Beaver.  The  fur  of  the  beaver  used  to  be  largely  employed  in  the 
manufacture  of  hats. 

159.  old  Letchers.    Cf.  The  Art  of  Living  in  London  (1793),  p.  22:  'Their 
lofty  garrets  Drury's  nymphs  forsake ;  |  Down  the  dark  alley  pants  the  batter'd 

160.  Drury-lane.    Steele  (T.  46)  describes    Drury   as    'purchased  by  the 
Queen   of  Paphos  before   the   days    of  Christianity';    and    Pope    (Satires   of 
Dr.  Donne  versified,  II,  64)  speaks  of '  drabs  in  Drury-lane.' 

162.  Dun.  Jeremy,  Valentine's  servant,  in  Congreve's  Love  for  Love  (I,  i), 
dispatches  'some  half-a-dozen  duns  with  as  much  dexterity  as  a  hungry  judge 
does  causes  at  dinner  time.' 

ito.the  Meuse,  i.e.,  the  Mews,  stood  on  the  site  of  Trafalgar  Square. 
Originally,  according  to  Stow,  the  king's  falcons  were  kept  there.  '  Then  is  the 
Mewse,  so  called  of  the  king's  falcons  there  kept  by  the  king's  falconer.'  It  was 
afterwards  'new  built  and  prepared  for  stabling  of  the  king's  horses  in  the  reign 
of  Edward  VI  and  Queen  Mary.'  In  1635  in  the  fields  behind  the  Meuse  was 
Duilt  a^  taire  house,  and  2  bowling  greens  made  to  entertain  gamesters  and 
bowlers  The  shoe-black  in  the  final  draft  of  Trivia  (Poems  on  Several  Occasions, 
1720),  II,  213-16,  'the  labour  ply'd  |  Where  branching  streets  from  Charing- 

NO  T  E  S  71 

cross  divide;  j  His  treble  voice  resounds  along  the  Meuse,  |  And  White-hall 
echoes — Clean  your  Honour's  shoes.'  D'Urfey,  describing  the  Play  House 
(Collins  Walk  through  London  and  Westminster,  Canto  IV),  speaks  of  'ragged 
Wight  that  once  did  use  |  As  bad  a  Station  as  the  Mews.' 

Thimble  s  Cheats,  now  called  thimble-rigging.  '  A  sleight-of-hand  trick  played 
with  three  small  cups  shaped  like  thimbles,  and  a  small  ball  or  pea.  The  ball  or 
pea  is  put  on  a  table  and  covered  with  one  of  the  cups.  The  operator  then  begins 
moving  the  cups  about,  offering  to  bet  that  no  one  can  tell  under  which  cup  the 
pea  lies.  The  one  who  bets  is  seldom  allowed  to  win '  (Century  Dictionary).  Cf. 
Borrow,  Lavengro,  Ch.  53- 

169.  Ludgate-hill,  and  Ludgate  Street,  are  'portions  of  the  main  artery  of 
London,  leading  from  Fleet  Street  to  St.  Paul's:  the  latter  term  is  now  abolished, 
and  it  is  named  Ludgate  Hill  throughout.    The  hill  extended  from  Fleet  Street 
to  the  site  of  old  Ludgate,  and  the  street  thence  to  St.  Paul's  churchyard  '  (L.P.P.). 
197.  nitry,  nitrous, c  as  an  epithet  applied  to  the  air,  on  the  supposition  that 
it  was  charged  with  particles  of  nitre '  (N.E.D.).    Cf.  Cowper,  The  Task,  III, 
32,  *  The  nitrous  air  |  Feeds  a  blue  flame,  and  makes  a  cheerful  hearth.' 
211.  spurn,  to  kick  out  (Phillips,  New  World  of  Words,  1720). 
213.   Whites.   Cf.  Book  I,  72  (note). 

215.  'Change,  i.e.,  the  New  Exchange,  ca  kind  of  bazaar  on  the  south  side 
of  the  Strand,  so  called  in  contradistinction  to  the  Royal  Exchange '  (L.P.P.). 
According  to  Strype  it  was  *  furnished  with  shops  on  both  sides  the  walls,  both 
below  and  above  stairs,  for  milleners,  sempstresses,  and  other  trades,  that  furnish 
dresses.'  It  was  demolished  in  1737.  Defoe  (Complete  English  Tradesman,  Ch.  51) 
speaks  of  *  the  two  great  centres  of  the  women  merchants :  I  mean  the  Exchange 
shops,  particularly  at  the  Royal  Exchange,  and  the  New  Exchange  in  the  Strand.' 
Tom  Trusty's  mistress  '  would  often  cheapen  Goods  at  the  New  Exchange ' 
(S.  96)  The  Spectator  receives  long  letters  from  the  Royal  and  the  New 
Exchange  complaining  that  *  a  young  Fop  cannot  buy  a  Pair  of  Gloves,  but  he 
is  at  the  same  time  straining  for  some  Ingenious  Ribaldry  to  say  to  the  young 
Woman  who  helps  them  on'  (S.  155).  Melissa's  'Shop,  or,  if  you  please  to  call 
it  so,  my  Cell,  is  in  that  great  Hive  of  Females  which  goes  by  the  Name  of  The 
New  Exchange*  (S.  211).  Clarinda  records  in  her  diary  for  Wednesday,  '  From 
One  till  Half  an  Hour  after  Two.  Drove  to  the  Change.  Cheapned  a  Couple 
of  Fans '  (S.  323).  Steele,  in  his  Ramble  from  Richmond  to  London  (S.  454), 
describing  the  New  Exchange,  speaks  of  '  pretty  Hands  busie  in  the  Foldings  of 
Ribbands,  and  the  utmost  Eagerness  of  agreeable  Faces  in  the  sale  of  Patches, 
Pins,  and  Wires,  on  each  Side  the  Counters.'  In  The  Lying  Lover  (1704), 
II,  26,  he  makes  Young  Bookwit  describe  his  distraction  among  'the  pretty 
Merchants  and  their  Dealers '  in  the  New  Exchange :  '  One  little  lisping  Rogue, 
Ribbandth,  Gloveths,  Tippeths. — Sir,  cries  another,  will  you  buy  a  fine  Sword- 
knot;  then  a  third,  pretty  Voice  and  Curtsie, — Does  not  your  Lady  wanted 
Hoods,  Scarfs,  fine  silk  Stockins? '  According  to  Tom  Brown  (Works,  IV,  182) 
4  the  Country  Ladies,  when  they  come  up  to  Town,  enquire  in  the  first  place, 
Which  is  the  newest  Play  or  Lampoon?  Which  is  the  topping  Mistress  of  the  Court? 
Or  the  most  fashionable  Suit  of  Ribbons  at  the  Exchange? ' 

2 1 6.  Belgian  Stove,  a  warming  stove  for  the  feet.  'The  word  was  first  used 
in  English  in  this  sense  as  applied  to  foot-stoves'  (Century  Dictionary). 

221.  Covent-gardenJs  famous  Temple,  i.e.,  St.  Paul's,  Covent  Garden, '  a  parish 
church  on  the  west  side  of  the  market,  the  design  of  which  is  attributed  to  Inigo 

Jones,  begun  1631  ...  and  consecrated  1638  ...  When  first  creeled  the 
church  was  greatly  admired  for  its  classic  simplicity  of  form  and  outline,  and 
especially  for  its  "  noble  Tuscan  portico,"  exaftly  in  accordance,  as  was  said, 
with  one  described  by  Vitruvius  '  (L.P.P.).  In  Hogarth's  '  Morning '  (The  Four 
Times  of  the  Day)  this  church  forms  the  principal  object  in  the  east  end  of  the 
pifture.  See  Wheatley,  Hogarth's  London,  p.  133.  'Ralph  Bellfry,  Sexton  of  the 
Parish  of  Covent-Garden '  (S.  372),  complains  that,  c  as  I  was  tolling  in  to 
Prayers  at  Eleven  in  the  Morning,  Crowds  of  People  of  Quality  hastened  to 
assemble  at  a  Puppet-Show  on  the  other  Side  of  the  Garden.' 

222.  Jones,  i.e.,  Inigo  Jones,  the  famous  architect  (1573-1652). 

226.  Foot-ball  War.  Cf.  Waller,  On  the  Danger  his  Majesty  [being  Prince] 
escaped  in  the  Road  at  St.  Anders,  45-50 :  '  As  when  a  sort  of  lusty  shepherds 
try  |  Their  force  at  football,  care  of  victory  |  Makes  them  salute  so  rudely  breast 
to  breast,  |  That  their  encounter  seems  too  rough  for  jest ;  |  They  ply  their  feet, 
and  still  the  restless  ball,  |  Toss'd  to  and  fro,  is  urged  by  them  all.'  Tom  Brown 
(Works,  IV,  128)  compares  the  citation  of  the  Fathers  in  support  of  truisms  to 
'sending  for  the  Sheriff  to  come  with  the  Posse  Co?nitatus  to  disperse  a  few  Boys 
at  Foot-ball.'  For  an  amusing  description  of  Elizabethan  football  see  Stubbes, 
Anatomic  of  Abuses,  'Playing  at  Footeball.' 

234.  gingling,  found  as  early  as  Chaucer,  C.  T.,  Prol.,  1 70,  of  the  bells  on 
the  Monk's  bridle,  and  as  late  as  Congreve,  The  Old  Bachelor,  V,  v,  ad  fin., 
'with  gaudy  plumes  and  gingling  bells  made  proud,  |  The  youthful  beast  sets 
forth,  and  neighs  aloud.'  Cf.  Gay,  Work  for  the  Cooper,  'Let  your  keys  gingle  at 
her  side.' 

235.  that  wond*rous  Tear,  i.e.,  1709-10,  when,  according  to  Maitland,  a  very 
hard  frost  began  on  Christmas  Day  at  night,  and  lasted  three  months.  As  Trivia, 
according  to  an  advertisement  in  the  Daily  Courant,  was  published  on  the  26th 
of  January  1716-17,11  cannot  be  the  great  frost  described  in  Dawks' s  News- 
Letter  of  14  January,  1716,  which  lasted  seven  weeks,  when  the  Thames  was 
again   frozen  over.    See  Andrews,  Famous   Frosts  and  Frost  Fairs,  pp.   40-4  ; 
Walford,  Frost  Fairs  on  the  Thames,  pp.  34-5;  Chambers,  Book  of  Days,  I,  no  ; 
Hone,  Every  Day  Book,  II,  51-7. 

239.  the  Waterman,  etc.  In  the  'Blanket  Fair'  (so  called  because  the  booths 
were  largely  formed  of  blankets),  which  was  held  on  the  Thames  during  the 
great  frost  of  1683-4,  '  hackney  coaches  plied  for  hire,  as  in  the   Strand,  thus 
ousting  the  Thames  watermen,   who,  driven  from    their  proper  employment, 
dragged  boats  and  sledges  on  the  ice,  or  set  up  "  fuddling  tents  "  : 
'  And  those  that  us'd  to  ask,  Where  shall  I  land  ye  ? 
Now  cry,  What  lack  ye,  Sir  ?    Beer,  ale,  or  brandy  ?* 

Frost  Fairs,  p.  32. 

In  a  broadside,  printed  for  J.  Shad,  London,  in  1684,  and  now  preserved   in 
the  Ashmolean  Museum,  we  find : 

'  The  watermen  with  folded  arms  doe  stand, 
And  grieve  to  see  the  water  firm  as  land, 
Their  boats  hal'd  up,  their  oars  laid  useless  by, 
Nor  oars,  nor  skuller,  master,  do  they  cry.' 

Famous  Frosts  and  Frost  Fairs,  p.  33. 

241.  Sees  harness1*!  Steeds,  etc.  Cf.  Ovid,  Tristia,  III,  x,  31-4,  quaque  rates 
terant,  pedibus  nunc  itur;  et  undas  \  frigore  concretas  ungula  pulsat  equi.  \  perque 
nouos  pontes,  subter  labentibus  undis,  \  ducunt  Sarmatici  barbara  plaustra  boues. 


243.  Wheels  o'er,  etc.  Cf.  Virgil,  Georgics,  III,  361 -2:  undaque  lam  tergo 
ferratos  sustinet  orbis,  \  puppibus  ilia  prius,  patulis  nunc  hospita  plaustris. 

245.  the  fat  Cook)  etc.    Evelyn  thus  describes  the  great  frost   of  1683-4: 
*  Jan.  9.    I  went  crosse  the  Thames  on  the  ice,  now  become  so  thick  as  to  beare 
not  only  streetes  of  boothes,  in  which  they  roasted  meate,  and  had  divers  shops 
of  wares,  quite  acrosse  as  in  a  towne,  but  coaches,  carts,  and  horses  passed  over.* 
In  the  frost  of  1716,  as  described  in  Dawks' s  News-Letter  (see  note  on  v.  235), 
'  a  great  cook's-shop  was  erected,  and  gentlemen  went  as   frequently  to  dine 
there,  as  at  any  ordinary.' 

246.  the  Steer  entire.    At  these  frost  fairs  on  the  Thames  it  was  customary 
to  roast  an  ox  whole.    Broadsides  describing  the  great  frost  of  1683-4,  preserved 
in  the  British  Museum,  speak  of c  An  ox  roasted  whole,  which  thousands  saw,' 
and,  *  Here  roasted  was  an  ox  before  the  court.'    '  Roasting  the  ox  '  may  be  seen 
in  a  facsimile  of  a  contemporary  print  representing  'Blanket  Fair,'  in  Walford's 
Frost  Fairs  on  the  Thames. 

247.  long  Streets  appear.     Evelyn  (24  Jan.    1684)    says,    'the   frost    con 
tinuing  more  and  more  severe,  the  Thames  before  London  was  still  planted 
with  boothes  in  formal  streetes,  all  sorts  of  trades  and  shops  furnish'd  and  full  or 
commodities.'   So,  in  the  broadsides  mentioned  above,  we  find  mention  of  a  street 
reaching  from  the  Temple  to  Southwark,  which  can  be  clearly  seen  in  the  print 
of 'Blanket  Fair,'  with  a  continuous  line  of  booths  on  each  side.    It  was  named 
Temple  Street. 

248.  numerous  Games.    At  the  c  Blanket  Fair '  among  other  pastimes  were 
'  bowls  for  ladies  of  "  the  quality/'  and  ninepins  for  the  wives  and  daughters  of 
citizens  ;  football  for  the  lads,  and  "  throwing  at  cocks  "  for  the  cruel-hearted 
roughs.    There  were  also  horse  races,  donkey  races,  and  coach  races  ;  there  was 
music,  a  large  bear-garden,  and  a  ring  for  bull-baiting  close  to  Temple  Stairs : 
and,  not  far  off,  a  fox  was  hunted  on  the  ice*  (Frost  Fairs,  pp.  32-3). 

257.  Lulling^  etc.  Notice  the  use  of  liquids  to  burlesque  the  principle  that 
'  The  Sound  must  seem  an  Ecchoto  the  Sense9  (Pope,  Essay  on  Criticism,  II,  365). 
So  in  Pope's  Satires  and  Epistles,  I,  29-31  :  'Then  all  your  muse's  softer  art 
display,  |  Let  Carolina  smoothe  the  tuneful  lay,  |  Lull  with  Amelia's  liquid 
name  the  Nine,  |  And  sweetly  flow  thro'  all  the  royal  line.' 

270.  Pip-Pip-Pip.    Cf.  Virgil,  EcL,  VI,  44  :  clamassent,  ut  litus  Hyla  Hyla 
omne  sonaret. 

271.  Orpheus.    The  tale  is  told  by  Ovid,  Met.,  XI,  1-66. 

273.  His  severed  Head,  etc.  Ovid,  Met.,  XI,  50-3  :  caput,  Hebre,  lyramque  \ 
excipis ;  et,  mirum,  media  dum  labitur  amne,  \flebile  nescio  quid  queritur  lyra ; 
flebile  lingua  \  murmurat  exanimis ;  respondent  flebile  ripae.  It  will  be  noticed 
that  Ovid  does  not  represent  Orpheus'  tongue  as  calling  for  Eurydice. 

280.  Thames*  full  Urn.  River-gods  were  represented  in  ancient  art  with 
water  pouring  out  of  pitchers  at  their  sides.  Cf.  Virgil,  Aen.,  VII,  792 :  caelataque 
amnem  fundens  pater  Inachus  urna.'  Garth,  The  Dispensary,  Canto  IV,  '  And 
River  Gods  their  thirsty  Urns  supply.' 

288.  Hockley-hole.  '  Hockley-in-the-Hole,  memorable  for  its  Bear  Garden, 
was  on  the  outskirt  of  the  town,  by  Clerkenwell  Green  ;  with  Mutton  Lane  on 
the  east  and  the  fields  on  the  west.  By  Town's  End  Lane  (called  Coppice  Row 
since  the  levelling  of  the  coppice-crowned  knoll  over  which  it  ran),  through 
Pickled-Egg  Walk  (now  Crawford's  Passage),  one  came  to  Hockley-in-the-Hole, 
or  Hockley  Hole,  now  Ray  Street.  In  Hockley  Hole  dealers  in  rags  and  old 


iron  congregated.  This  gave  it  the  name  of  Rag  Street,  euphonized  into  Ray 
Street  since  1774.  In  the  Spectator's  time  its  Bear  Garden,  upon  the  site  of 
which  there  are  now  [1870]  metal  works,  was  a  famous  resort  of  the  lowest 
classes'  (Henry  Morley,  on  S.  31).  Cf.  Fables,  XXXIV,  <  Both  Hockley-hole 
and  Mary-bone  \  The  combats  of  my  dog  have  known/  References  to  Hockley 
Hole  are  very  numerous  in  the  literature  of  the  time,  e.g.,  S.  31,  436,  630  ; 
T.  28  ;  Pope,  Dunciad,  I,  222,  Imitations  of  Horace,  II,  i,  49  ;  Tom  Brown, 
Works,  I,  217,  where  'Jumping  through  a  Hoop,  Dancing  upon  the  high  Ropes, 
Leaping  over  eight  Men's  Heads,  Wrestling,  Boxing,  Cudgelling,  Fighting  at 
Backsword,  and  Quarter-staff*  are  mentioned  among  the  *  noble  exercises  that 
divert  the  good  Folks  at  Hockley.' 

290.  Mondays  and  'Thursdays.  In  Tom  Brown's  Comical  View  (Works,  I, 
163),  under  Wednesday  occurs  the  entry:  'Afternoon  noisy  and  bloody  at  her 
Majesties  Bear-Garden  in  Hockley  in  the  Hole? 

292.  Maid.    '  A  name  given  to  the  Skate  and  Thornback  (Raia  batis  and 
R.  clavata)  when  young.    Also  to  the  Twait  Shad,  Alosa  finta  (in  Fr.  similarly 
called  pucelle).  (N.E.D.,  which  quotes  from  Pennant,  Brit.  Zoo/.  (1769), 'Their 
[the  thornbacks']  young  .  .  .  which,  (as  well  as  those  of  the  skate)  before  they 
are  old  enough  to  breed,  are  called  maids').  Tom  Brown,  in  his  description  of  the 
streets  of  London,  Amusements  Serious  and  Comical  (Works,  III,  15),  says:  '  One 
draws  his  Mouth  up  to  his  Ears,  and  howls  out,  Buy  my  Flounders,  and  is  follow'd 
by  an  old  burly  Drab,  that  screams  out  the  sale  of  her  Maids  and  her  Soul  at  the 
same  instant.' 

293.  Joul,  '  the  head  of  a  fish;  hence  (as  a  cut  or  dish)  the  head  and  shoulders 
of  certain  fish,  as  the  salmon,  sturgeon,  and  ling  '  (N.E.D.).     '  A  jowl  of  ling  ' 
(Middleton,  Blurt,  Master -Constable,  II,  ii)4 

297.  Wednesdays  and  Fridays.  Our  ancestors  used  to  fast  till  three  in  the 
afternoon  on  Wednesday  and  Friday.  Cf.  '  She  made  grete  abstynence,  and 
wered  the  hayre  [i.e.,  a  hair  shirt]  upon  the  Wednesday  and  upon  the  fryday ' 
(Knight  de  la  Tour,  ed.  Wright,  p.  193). 

299.  Balconies,  with  accent  on  penultima.    Spelt  balcone's  in  Milton's  Areo- 
pagitica.    'The  penult  is  long  with  Sherburne  (1618-1702),  and  with  Jenyns 
(1704-87),  and  in  Cowper's  John  Gilpin;  Swift  has  it  short '  (Hales). 

300.  Damsels  .  .  .    Mop.    Cf.  Swift's  Description  of  the  Morning  (quoted  by 
Steele,  T.  9):  'Now  Moll  had  whirl'd  her  mop  with  dextrous  airs,  |  Prepar'd 
to  scrub  the  entry  and  the  stairs.'  City  Shower  (T.  238):  'Such  is  that  sprink 
ling  which  some  careless  quean  |  Flirts  on  you  from  her  mop,  but  not  so  clean.] 
You  fly,  invoke  the  gods;  then  turning,  stop  |  To  rail;  she  singing,  still  whirls 
on  her  mop.'  Steele  (T.   124)  'took  a  particular  satisfaftion  in  the  sight  of  a 
young  country  wench,  whom  I  this  morning  passed  by  as  she  was  whirling  her 
mop,  with  her  petticoats  tucked  up  very  agreeably.'    'The  most  constant  of 
Lovers    in  a  letter  to  Mopsa  (T.  128),  assures  her  that  '  the  dexterous  twirl '  of 
her  mop  has  more  native  charms  than  the  studied  airs  of  a  lady's  fan. 

302.  conclusive,  i.e.,  ending  the  week. 

303  Successive  Crys.  For  London  street  cries  in  general  see  Tom  Brown, 
Letters  from  the  Dead  to  the  Living  (Works,  II,  144-6). 

y3o8  Nettle's.  Cf.  The  English  Physitian  Enlarged:  'This  is  also  an  herb 
Mars  claims  dominion  over.  You  know  Mars  is  hot  and  dry,  and  you  know  as 
well  that  winter  is  cold  and  moist;  then  you  may  know  as  well  the  reason  why 

tie-tops  eaten  m  Spring  consume  the  flegmatick  superfluities  in  the  body  of 

NO  r E  S  75 

man  that  the  coldness  and  moisture  of  winter  hath  left  behind.'  Tom  Brown, 
Letters  from  the  Dead  to  the  Living  (Works,  II,  362):  *  It  being  now  Spring 
time  ...  I  would  advise  you  to  correct  the  saline  Particles,  with  which  I  per 
ceive  your  Blood  is  overcharged,  with  good  wholesome  Nettle-broth  and  Water- 
gruel  every  Morning  alternately.' 

310.  Mackrell  Cries.  In  Tom  Brown's  Letters  from  the  Dead  to  the  Living 
(Works,  II,  275)  Lilly  writes  to  Cooley,  the  Almanac-Maker,    that  'the  Cry 
of  Coo/ey's  Almanack  for  two  Months  in  the  Year,  is  as  universally  brawl'd  about 
Hell's  Metropolis,  as  Mackrel  among  you  when  they  come  to  be  six  a  Groat.' 
In  his  description  of  London  cries  (Amusements  Serious  and  Comical  [Works,  III, 
15]), 'another  Son  of  a  Whore  yelps  louder  than  Homer's  Stentor,  Two  a  groat, 
and  Four  for  six-pence^  Mackerel.' 

311.  Wallnuts.  'Moses  Greenbag '  was  'diverting  himself  with  a  penny 
worth  of  Walnuts  at  the  Temple-Gate  '  (S.  498).    4  Hezekiah  Thrift '  complains 
that  '  the  Walnut  Trade  is  carry'd  on  by  old  Women  within  the  Walks,  which 
makes  the  Place  [the  Royal  Exchange]  impassable  by  reason  of  Shells  and  Trash ' 
(S.  509). 

312.  Pears.  '  The  next  Street  we  came  into,  we  saw  a  tall  thin-gutted  Mortal 
driving  a  Wheel-Barrow  of  Pears  before  him,  and  crying  in  a  hoarse  Tone, 
Pears  Twenty  a  Penny.9 

313.  Oranges.  It  used  to  be  the  custom  for  children  to  raffle  for  oranges  on 
Shrove  Tuesday.    The  ruined  gambler  in  Steele's  paper  (T.  13)  'is  now  gaming 
in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  among  the  boys  for  farthings  and  oranges.' 

315.  Rosemary.  Cf.  Middleton,  Blurt,  Master-Constable,  II,  ii,  'quick,  quick, 
quick,  buy  any  rosemary  and  bays? '  '  Jenny  Simper  '  complains  that '  our  Clerk, 
who  was  once  a  Gardener,  has  this  Christmas  so  over-deckt  the  Church  with 
Greens,  that  he  has  quite  spoilt  my  Prospect.  .  .  .  The  Pulpit  itself  has  such 
Clusters  of  Ivy,  Holly,  and  Rosemary  about  it  that  a  light  Fellow  in  our  Pew 
took  occasion  to  say,  that  the  Congregation  heard  the  Word  out  of  a  Bush,  like 
Moses'  (S.  282).  Brand  (Popular  Antiquities,  I,  521)  quotes  from  the  accounts 
for  the  parish  of  St.  Margaret,  Westminster,  1647:  'Item,  paid  for  rosemarie 
and  bayes  that  was  stuck  about  the  church  at  Christmas,  is.  6dJ 

319-20.  Holly  .  .  .  Misletoe.  For  'evergreen-decking'  at  Christmas,  see 
Brand,  Popular  Antiquities,  I,  519-25. 

345.  Knocker.  '  A  very  old  fellow/  who  visited  Steele  at  his  lodgings  with  '  a 
new  invention  of  knockers  to  doors,'  gave  him  a  demonstration  of  'a  complete 
set  of  knocks,  from  the  solitary  rap  of  the  dun  and  beggar,  to  the  thunderings  of 
the  saucy  footman'  (T.  105).  So  Pope  to  his  man,  John  Searle,  'Tie  up  the 
knocker,  say  I'm  sick,  I'm  dead '  (Epistle  to  Dr.  Arbuthnot,  2). 

347.  Upholder,  undertaker.  Also  upholster,  corrupted  to  upholsterer.  Phillips, 
New  World  of  Words  (1720),  '  Upholster  or  Upholsterer,  a  Tradesman  that  deals 
in  all  sorts  of  Chamber  Furniture;  as  Tapestry,  Bedding,  &c.'  For  'upholders' 
as  undertakers,  see  the  letter  from  '  The  Master  and  Company  of  Upholders ' 

(T-  99)- 

353.   F***,  i.e.,   William  Fortescue  (1687-1749),    Barrister   of  the   Inner 

Temple  in  1 7 1 5 ;  Attorney-General  to  Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  in  1 730 ;  Baron 
of  the  Exchequer  in  1736;  Justice  of  Common  Pleas  in  1738;  and  Master  of  the 
Rolls  in  1741.  He  was  very  intimate  with  Gay  and  Pope.  Pope  used  to  con 
sult  him  on  business  matters,  and  dedicated  the  first  of  his  Satires  and  Epistles 
to  him. 


358.  With  thee  conversing,  a  parody  of  Milton's  *  With  thee  conversing,  I  for 
get  all  time '  (Paradise  Lost,  IV,  639). 

359.  that  narrow  Street,  i.e.,  Arundel  Street,  Strand,  which  was  built  in 
1678  on  the  site  of  Arundel  House. 

361.  ArundeWsf arid  Structure,  i.e.,  Arundel  House.  In  the  time  of  Thomas 
Howard,  Earl  of  Arundel,  it  became  '  the  repository  of  that  noble  collection  of 
works  of  art,  of  which  the  very  ruins  are  ornaments  now  to  several  principal 
cabinets.  The  collection  contained,  when  entire,  37  statues,  128  busts,  and  250 
inscribed  marbles,  exclusive  of  sarcophagi,  altars,  gems,  and  fragments  '  (L.P.P.). 
At  the  Restoration  his  grandson  gave  the  library  to  the  Royal  Society  and  the 
marbles  to  the  University  of  Oxford.  The  house  was  taken  down  by  his  suc 
cessor,  and  the  present  Arundel  Street,  Surrey  Street,  Howard  Street,  and  Nor 
folk  Street  erected  on  the  site. 

363.  Titian's  glowing  Paint.   So  Pope  (Epistle  to  Mr  Jervas,  36-8)  speaks 
of 'Raphael's  grace  .  .  .  and  Titian's  warmth  divine.'    Gay,  Epistle  to  William 
Pulteney,  '  Titian's  strong  fire.' 

364.  Raphaels  fair  Design.    Cf.  Gay,  Epistle  to  William  Pulteney,  '  Talk  of 
the  spirit  Raphael's  pencil  gives,  |  Yet  warm  with  life  whose  speaking  picture 
lives.'   For  Steele  on  the  cartoons  of  Raphael,  see  S.  226  and  244. 

365.  Bell-man's  Song.    The  bellman  was  what  we  now  call  a  night-watch 
man,  so  called  from  the  hand-bell  which  he  carried  to  give  an  alarm  in  case  of 
fire.    c  He  was  a  regular  parish  official,  visible  by  day  also,  advertising  sales,  crying 
losses,  or  summoning  to  weddings  or  funerals  by  ringing  his  bell.  ...  In  the 
Luttrell  Collection  of  broadsides  (Brit.  Mus.)  is  one  dated  1683-4,  entitled,  A 
Copy  of  Verses  presented  by  Isaac  Ragg,  Bellman,  to  his  Masters  and  Mistresses  of 
Holbourn  Division,  in   the  parish  of  St.  Giles' s-in-the  Fields.   It  is  headed  by  a 
wood-cut  representing  Isaac  in  professional  accoutrements,  a  pointed  pole  in  the 
left  hand,  and  in  the  right  a  bell,  while  his  lantern  hangs  from  his  jacket  in  front. 
Below  is  a  series  of  verses  on  St.  Andrew's  Day,  King  Charles  the  First's  Birth 
day,  St.  Thomas's  Day,  Christmas  Day,  St.  John's  Day,  Childermas  Day,  New 
Year's  Day,  the  thirtieth  of  January,  etc.'  (Chambers,  Book  of  Days,  1, 496;  II,  410). 

366.  Overton.    John   Overton,  principal  vendor  of  mezzotints  of  his  day 
(D.N.B.).  Cf.  Tom  Brown  \Works,  111,236):  'had  thy  noble  Design  taken 
Effect  [i.e.,  hanging  herself],  thou  would'st  have  been  immortaliz'd  in  all  the 
News-Papers  about  Town,  and  thy  Phyz  most  curiously  engrav'd  in  Wood,  by 
honest  John  Overton,  to  adorn  the  Walls  of  every  Coffee-house  in  Drury-Lane.' 
Tempest's  Cryes  of the  City  of  London  (1711)  were  'printed  and  sold  by  Henry 
Overton  at  the  White  Horse  without  Newgate.' 

367.  Statues  breath'd,  a  reminiscence  of  Virgil's  spirantia  aera  (/Eneid,  VI, 
847)  ;  spirantia  signa  (Georgics,  III,  34). 

369.  Essex  stately  Pile,  i.e.,  Essex  House,  Strand,  which  stood  on  the  site  of 
the  Outer  Temple,  and  of  the  present  Essex  Street  and  Devereux  Court.    It 
derived  its  name    from  Robert  Devereux,  Earl    of  Essex,  Queen  Elizabeth's 
favourite  (L.P.P.). 

370.  Cecil's,  i.e.,  Cecil  House,  the  town  residence  of  Sir  William  Cecil,  the 
great  Lord  Burleigh.    It  stood  on  the  north  side  of  the  Strand,  on  the  site  of 
Burleigh  Street,  and  the  old  Exeter  'Change  (L.P.P.). 

Bedford's  i.e.,  Bedford  House,  Strand,  the  town  house  of  the  Earls  of  Bedford. 
It  stood  on  the  north  side  of  the  Strand,  on  the  site  of  the  present  Southampton 
street,  and  was  taken  down  in  1704. 

NOTES  77 

ViUer^s,  i.e.,  York  House  in  the  Strand,  an  old  London  lodging  of  the  Arch 
bishops  of  York,  by  whom  it  was  let  to  the  Lord  Keepers  of  the  Great  Seal. 
Here  Francis  Bacon  was  born  in  1561.  After  Bacon's  fall  it  passed  to  Bucking 
ham,  the  first  duke  of  the  Villiers  family.  It  was  sold  in  1672,  the  houses  pulled 
down,  and  the  grounds  and  gardens  converted  into  streets,  called  from  the  last 
owner,  George  Street,  Villiers  Street,  Duke  Street,  and  Buckingham  Street 

371.  Burlington's  fair  Palace,  i.e.,  Burlington  House,  Piccadilly,  between 
Bond  Street  and  Sackville  Street.  The  first  house  was  built  for  Richard  Boyle, 
the  second  Earl  of  Cork  and  first  Earl  of  Burlington,  by  Sir  John  Denham. 
Lord  Burlington,  great-grandson  of  the  first  Earl,  made  it  into  a  mansion  by 
a  new  front,  taken  from  the  palace  of  Count  Chiericati  at  Vicenza  by  Palladio, 
and  the  addition  of  a  grand  colonnade,  behind  what  Ralph  has  called  *  the  most 
expensive  wall  in  England*  (L.P.P.).  Cf.  Gay,  Epistles  (Poems,  1720,  p.  306), 
'  While  Burlington  s  proportioned  columns  rise,  |  Does  not  he  stand  the  gaze  of 
envious  eyes?  |  Doors,  windows  are  condemned  by  passing  fools,  |  Who  know 
not  that  they  damn  Palladia's  rules.'  Hogarth's  The  Man  of  Taste  '  contains  the 
best  view  in  existence  of  the  old  wall  and  gate  of  Burlington  House,  cleared  away 
in  1866'  (Wheatley,  Hogarth's  London,  pp.  124-5).  Hogarth's  Masquerades 
and  Operas  has  the  entrance  gate  of  Burlington  House  in  the  background 
(ib.  pp.  348-50). 

374.  The  Wall,  etc.    The  wall  and  some  ceilings  of  Burlington  House  were 
painted  by  Marco  and  Sebastian  Ricci  and  Sir  James  Thornhill  (L.P.P.). 

375.  Hendel.    Handel  lived  for  three  years  at  Burlington  House. 

376.  Transports  the  Soul.     Cf.  Pope,  Dunciad,  IV,  65-8,  'Strong  in  new 
Arms,  lo  Giant  Handel  stands,  |  To  stir,  to  rouse,  to  shake  the  soul  he  comes.' 

377.  off  I  enter.     So  Pope  (A  Farewell  to  London)  speaks  of  'Burlington's 
delicious  meal.' 

379.  O  ye  associate  Walkers,  etc.  Imitated  by  the  anonymous  author  of 
The  Art  of  Living  in  London  (1793),  p.  39,  *  O  ye  associate  frugals !  O  my 
friends ! ' 

391.  box^d  within  the  Chair.  So  the  'Indian  Kings'  [i.e.,  the  four  Iroquois 
chiefs  who  visited  England  in  1710]  are  made  to  say  in  their  imaginary  descrip 
tion  of  London  (S.  50),  'The  Men  of  the  Country  are  ...  so  very  idle,  that 
we  often  saw  young  lusty  raw-boned  Fellows  carried  up  and  down  the  Streets  in 
little  covered  Rooms  by  a  Couple  of  Porters,  who  are  hired  for  that  Service.' 

396.  the  faithless  Oar.  So  Swift  in  the  Journal  to  Stella  (17  June  1712), 
'  On  Saturday  I  dined  with  the  Duchess  of  Ormond,  at  her  lodge  near  Sheen, 
and  thought  to  get  a  boat  back  as  usual;  I  walked  by  the  bank  to  Kew,  but  no 
boat,  then  to  Mortlake,  but  no  boat;  and  it  was  nine  o'clock;  at  last  a  little 
sculler  called,  full  of  nasty  people.  I  made  him  set  me  down  at  Hammer 
smith,  so  walked  two  miles  to  this  place  [i.e.,  Kensington],  and  got  here  by 

410.  slobby.    Cf.  1.  92. 

413.  Son  of  Phoebus,  i.e.,  Phaethon.  Cf.  Ovid,  Met.,  II,  311-5:  intonat :  et 
dextra  libratum  fulmen  ab  aure  \  mi  sit  in  aurigam;  pariterque  animaque  rotisque  \  ex- 
pulit,  et  saeuis  compescuit  ignibus  ignes.  \  consternantur  equi;  et  saltu  in  contraria 
fatto  |  colla  iugo  eripiunt,  abruptaque  lor  a  relinquunt. 

418.  friendly  Bills.  So  Steele  (S.  444)  :  '  As  I  was  passing  along  to-day,  a 
Paper  given  into  my  Hand  by  a  Fellow  without  a  Nose  tells  us  as  follows  what 


good  News  is  come  to  Town,  to  wit,  that  there  is  now  a  certain  Cure  for  the 
French  Disease,  by  a  Gentleman  just  come  from  his  Travels.'  Zachary  Pearse 
(S.  572):  'There  is  another  Branch  of  Pretenders  to  this  Art,  who,  without 
either  Horse  or  Pickle-Herring,  lie  snug  in  a  Garret,  and  send  down  Notice  to 
the  World  of  their  extraordinary  Parts  and  Abilities  by  printed  Bills  and 

419.  seventh-born  Do£lor.  The  seventh  son  of  a  seventh  son  was  believed 
to  be  an  infallible  doftor.  See  Brand,  Popular  Antiquities,  III,  265-6.  Addison, 
in  a  paper  on  physicians  (T.  240),  says:  'There  are  some  who  have  gained 
themselves  great  reputation  for  physic  by  their  birth,  as  the  seventh  son  of  a 
seventh  son.'  Tom  Brown,  in  the  advertisement  to  his  Comical  View  of  the 
Transactions  that  will  happen  in  the  Cities  of  London  and  Westminster  (Works,  I, 
163),  warrants  his  predictions  to  be  true,  'tho'  he  never  travelled  abroad,  nor 
pretends  to  be  the  Seventh  Son  of  a  Seventh  Son ';  and  in  his  Letters  from  the 
Dead  to  the  Living  (Works,  II,  167),  makes  Giusippe  Hanesio  describe  himself 
as  'High-German  Astrologer  and  Chymist;  Seventh  Son  of  a  Seventh  Son, 
unborn  Doctor,  of  above  sixty  Years  Experience,  educated  at  twelve  Universi 
ties,  having  travelled  through  fifty  two  Kingdoms.'  Apollo,  in  the  Fable  of 
Apollo  and  Daphne  (Works,  IV,  40),  says  he  is  Chief  of  Physicians,  and  can  '  do 
more  than  the  best  Seventh  Son  of  'em  all.'  A  quack,  *  not  content  to  be  the 
seventh  Son  of  a  seventh  Son,  must  needs  call  himself  the  unborn  Doctor* 
(Works,  IV,  1 1 6). 

422.  Newgate.  Newgate  Market,  between  Newgate  Street  and  Paternoster 
Row,  and  Ivy  and  Warwick  Lanes,  was  originally  a  meal  market,  and  after 
wards  a  meat  market.  'Where  were  only  butchers'  shops  and  shambles,  are 
now  publishers'  offices  and  warehouses '  (L.P.P.). 

424.  Leaden-hall.    Strype   describes   Leadenhall    Market   as   'one   of  the 
greatest,  the   best,  and  the   most   general  for  all   provisions,  in    the  City   of 
London,  nay  of  the  kingdom ;  and  if  I  should  say  of  all  Europe,  I  should  not 
give  it  too  great  a  praise.'   The  first  court  contained  'about  a  hundred  standing 
stalls  for  butchers  for  the  selling  only  of  beef,  and  therefore  this  court  is  called 
the  Beef  Market.'   Swift,  however,  in  A  Tale  of  a  Tub,  Sett.  IV,  speaks  of  '  true, 
good,  natural  mutton,  as  any  in  Leadenhall  market.'  Tom  Brown,  in  his  Comical 
View  (Works,  I,  164),  couples  Leadenhall  and  Newgate:    'Twenty  Butchers 
Wives  in  Leadenhall  and  Newgate-Markets  overtaken  with  Sherry  and  Sugar  by 
Eight  in  the  Morning.' 

Saint  James's.  St.  James's  Market,  Westminster,  is  described  by  Strype  (i  720) 
as  'a  large  place,  with  a  commodious  Market-House  in  the  midst,  filled  with 
Butchers'  Shambles;  besides  the  Stalls  in  the  Market-Place  for  Country 
Butchers,  Higglers,  and  the  like.' 

425.  Thames-street.     Cf.  II,  123-34. 

Covent-Garden.  Strype  describes  Covent  Garden  at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth 
century:  'The  south  side  of  Covent  Garden  Square  lieth  open  to  Bedford 
Garden,  where  there  is  a  small  grotto  of  trees,  most  pleasant  in  the  summer 
season;  and  on  this  side  there  is  kept  a  market  for  fruits,  herbs,  roots,  and 
flowers,  every  Tuesday,  Thursday,  and  Saturday,  which  is  grown  to  a  consider 
able  account  and  well  served  with  choice  goods,  which  makes  it  much  resorted 
unto.  Steele,  in  his  Day  in  London  (S.  454),  visited  Covent  Garden  Market : 
1  could  not,'  he  says, '  believe  any  Place  more  entertaining  than  Covent-Garden  ; 
where  1  strolled  from  one  Fruit-Shop  to  another,  with  Crowds  of  agreeable 

NOTES  79 

young  Women  around  me,  who  were  purchasing  Fruit  for  their  respective 

426.  Moor-fields^  ca  moor  or  fen  without  the  walls  of  the  City  to  the  north, 
first  drained  in  1587  ;  laid  out  into  walks  for  the  first  time  in  1606,  and  first 
built  upon  late  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  ...  This  low-lying  district  became 
famous  for  its  musters  and  pleasant  walks  ;  for  its  laundresses  and  bleachers  j  for 
its  cudgel  players  and  popular  amusements  ;  for  its  madhouse,  better  known  as 
Bethlehem  Hospital;  and  for  its  bookstalls  and  ballad-sellers'  (L.P.P.).  Thoresby 
(Diary,  1 709)  bought  c  a  very  rare  edition  of  the  New  Testament  in  English  ' 
in  Moorfields  (/£.).  Tom  Brown  (Works,  III,  21),  speaks  of  'those  redoubted 
Authors  that  take  the  benefit  of  the  Air  upon  the  rails  in  Morefields,'  and 
describes  the  contempt  with  which  ca  well-grown  Paul's  Church-yard  Bookseller 
looks  upon  one  of  the  Trade  that  sells  second-hand  Books  under  the  Trees  in 
Morefields'  (Works,  IV,  122).  In  1793  it  is  described  as  a  place  *  where 
wretched  paupers  ply  |  Round  clothless  tables  in  an  open  sky '  (Art  of  Living  in 
London^  ed.  2,  p.  1 8). 

Monmouth-street, c  afterwards  called  Dudley  Street,  runs  from  High  Street  and 
Broad  Street  to  Grafton  Street  in  St.  Giles's.  ...  It  was  noted  throughout  the 
eighteenth  century  for  the  sale  of  second-hand  clothes,  and  several  of  the  shops 
continued  to  be  occupied  by  Jew  dealers  in  left-ofF  apparel'  (L.P.P.).  Prior 
(Alma,  I,  170)  speaks  of  Nature  as  cutting  out  clothes  for  all  the  town,  and 
then  sending  them  to  Mon mouth  Street  to  try  what  persons  they  would  fit. 
*  Monmouth  Street  shall  furnish  Versailles  with  Riding-hoods,'  cries  Colorynthis 
in  Garth's  Dispensary, '  before  we  will  submit  to  the  Faculty.'  Cf.  Pope,  Prologue 
to  the  Three  Hours  after  Marriage  :  '  Poets  make  characters,  as  salesmen  clothes,  ] 
We  take  no  measure  of  your  fops  and  beaus,  |  But  here  all  sizes  and  all  shapes 
you  meet,  |  And  fit  yourselves,  like  chaps  in  Monmouth-street.' 

431.  Scholiasts,  commentators.  *  Scholiast ,  one  who  makes  Notes  upon  an 
Author,  a  Commentator  '  (Bailey). 

433.  like  the  Bee.  Cf.  Horace,  Carmlna  IV,  ii,  27-9  :  apis  Matlnae  \  more 
modoque  \  grata  carpentls  thyma  per  laborem  \  plurlmum. 

437.  Plutarch.  The  so-called  Moralla  of  Plutarch  consist  of  about  eighty- 
three   miscellaneous   papers   attributed    to    him,  of  which  many  are  probably 
spurious,  and  only  about  half  deal  with  ethical  questions. 

438.  Stagyra's  Sage.    Aristotle  was  born  about  384  B.C.  at  Stageira,  a  Greek 
colony  in  Thrace. 

440.  D**  evidently  refers  to  John  Dennis. 

441.  Lock's  fam'd  Rape.    Pope's  Rape  of  the  Lock  was  written  and  published 
in  its  first  form  in  1711. 

442.  Squirts.    Cf.   The  Dispensary,  II  (ad  fin.):    c Officious  Squirt  in  Haste 
forsook  his  Shop,  |  To  succour  the  expiring  Horoscope.'    In  the  Compleat  Key 
added    to  the  poem,  Horoscope    is    explained  as   Dr.  Barnard,  and   Squirt   as 
Dr.    Barnard's    man.     In    Fable  XXXVI  Gay  quotes  from  The  Dispensary: 
'  petty  rogues  submit  to  fate  |  That  great  ones  may  enjoy  their  state.' 

Apozems.  c  Apozem  '  is  defined  by  Bailey  as  *  a  Medicinal  Decoction  of 
Herbs,  Flowers,  Roots,  Barks,  &c.'  Cf.  The  Dispensary,  V,  <  But  in  a  Flood  of 
Apozem  was  drown'd.'  From  Greek  a7ro£e/xa. 

443.  Lintott.  Pope,  Z>wmr/W,I,4O,speaks  of  'Lintot's  rubric  post,' and  in  anote 
says  he  *  usually  adorned  his  shop  with  titles  in  red  letters.'  Cf.  Dunclad,  II,  53,  seq. 

452.  Flanders  Mares,    Tom  Brown,  in  his  Amusements  Serious  a.nd 


(Works,  III,  n),  describes  a  court  favourite  as  having  'six  as  good  Flanders 
Mares  to  his  Coach  as  English  Money  could  purchase.'  Macaulay  (History  of 
England,  Ch.  Ill)  says,  c  the  coaches  of  the  aristocracy  were  drawn  by  grey 
Flemish  mares,  which  trotted,  as  itwas  thought,  with  a  peculiar  grace,  and  endured 
better  than  any  cattle  reared  in  our  island  the  work  of  dragging  a  ponderous 
equipage  over  the  rugged  pavement  of  London.' 

453.  That  Wretch,  etc.    Steele  (T.  144)  deals  with  this  subject.    He  com 
plains  that  *  the  horses  and  slaves  of  the  rich  take  up  the  whole  street,  while  we 
peripatetics  are  very  glad  to  watch  an  opportunity  to  whisk  across  a  passage, 
very  thankful  that  we  are  not  run  over  for  interrupting  the  machine,  that  carries 
in  it  a  person   neither   more    handsome,  wise,  nor  valiant  than    the   meanest 
of  us.' 

454.  Betray*  d  bis  Sister.  So  Pope,  Epilogue  to  the  Satires,  I,  iu-2:   'And  at 
a  peer,  or  peeress,  shall  I  fret,  |  Who  starves  a  sister,  or  forswears  a  debt  ? ' 


4.  Cynthia.    Diana  was  Luna  in  heaven,  Diana  on  earth,  Hecate  in  Hades. 
Cf.  Horace,   Carm.  Ill,  xxii,  4,  diua  triformis ;  Virgil,  Aen.,  IV,  54,  tergemin 
amque  Hecaten,  tria  uirginis  ora  Dianae. 

17.  Saint  Clement,  i.e.,  the  church  of  St.  Clement  Danes  in  the  Strand, 
opposite  Clement's  Inn,  so  called,  according  to  Stow,  'because  Harold,  a  Danish 
king,  and  other  Danes,  were  buried  there.'  The  old  church  was  taken  down  in 
1 68 1,  and  rebuilt  immediately.  Dr.  Johnson  used  to  attend  this  church.  Steele 
explains  c  the  Pass  of  St.  Clement's '  as  a  '  military  Term,  which  the  Brothers  of 
the  Whip  have  given  the  Strait  at  St.  Clement's  Church  .  .  .  where  there  are 
always  Coaches  in  waiting*  (S.  498).  In  T.  137  he  makes  a  choleric  old  army 
friend  exclaim, 'Lookee,  there  is  forevera  stop  at  this  hole  by  St.  Clement's  Church.' 

35.  Oaths  grow  loud.  Cf.  Pope,  1740,  A  Poem,  73-4,  'Alas  !  the  people  curse, 
the  carman  swears,  |  The  drivers  quarrel,  and  the  master  stares.' 

with  Coaches  Coaches  jar.  Cf.  Dryden,  The  Hind  and  the  Panther,  II,  161, 
'  Where  piles  with  piles,  and  eagles  eagles  met/  Pope,  The  Rape  of  the  Lock,  I, 
101-2,  *  Where  wigs  with  wigs,  with  sword-knots  sword-knots  strive,  |  Beaux 
banish  beaux  and  coaches  coaches  drive.'  Lucan,  Phanalia,  I,  6,  infestisque  obuia 
signis  |  signa. 

38.  the  twining  Lash.  Cf.  D'Urfey,  Collin's  Walk  through  London  and 
Westminster,  II,  '  At  this  his  whip  with  knotted  Lash,  |  Lifted  by  Arm  as  strong 
as  rash,  |  Round  Collin's  Shoulders  smartly  twang'd.' 

45.  Ttene,  i.e.,  the  New  Forest,  from  lotena,  gen.  plur.  of  lotan,  Jutes. 

46.  Westphalia.    Cf.  Pope,  Epilogue  to  the  Satires,  II,  172,  'As  hog  to  hog 
in  hutsofWestphaly.'  Tom  Brown,  New  Maxims  of  Conversation  (Works,  III,  77), 
speaks  of  a  gammon  of  bacon   as  cthe   topping   Dish  of  the  Country*  [i.e., 

59.  dives  the  skulking  Thief.  So  Tom  Brown,  in  his  Amusements  Serious  and 
Comical  (Works,  III,  77) :  *  put  the  Bilk  upon  a  Pick-Pocket;  who  measuring  my 
Estate  by  the  Length  and  Bulkiness  of  my  New  Wig,  which  (God  knows)  is 
not  paid  for,  he  made  a  Dive  into  my  Pocket,  but  encountring  a  Disappoint 
ment,  rub'd  off,  cursing  the  Vacuum? 

NO  r E  S  81 

61-2.  Watch  .  .  .  Snuff-Box.  Cf.  Ill,  257, '  Who  has  not  here,  or  Watch, 
or  Snuff-Box  lost?' 

64.  Lurcher, '  one  who  lies  upon  the  Lurch  or  upon  the  Catch ;  also  a  kind 
of  Hunting-Dog '  (Bailey). 

68.  callow  Care.    Cf.  Virgil,  Eclogue,  I,  57,  raucae,  tua  cura,  palumbes. 

74.  beneath  the  Pump.  Cf.  Pope,  Epilogue  to  the  Satires,  II,  41, 'Go,  drench 
a  pickpocket,  and  join  the  mob.'  D'Urfey,  Collins  Walk,  II  (ed.  1690,  p.  59), 
c  Pump'd  in  my  sense,  is  cooling  Courage;  |  When  th'  People  for  diversion,  or 
rage;  |  Do  punish  Pick-pockets.' 

77.  Ballad-Singer.  Steele  complains  of  his  *  unhappy  curiosity,'  which  was 
always  leading  him  into  some  odd  adventure  among  beggars,  ballad-singers,  or 
the  like,  and  throwing  him  into  expense.  He  was  listening  to  a  new  ballad  at 
the  corner  of  Warwick  Street,  when  he  fell  a  victim  to  the  wiles  of  '  a  ragged 
Rascal,  a  Beggar,'  who  knew  him  (S.  454). 

95.  lost  Bride.  Virgil,  Aeneid,  II,  768-70:  ausus  quin  etiam  uoces  iattare  per 
umbram  \  inpleui  clamore  uias,  maestusque  Creusam  |  nequiquam  ingeminans  iterum- 
que  iterumque  uocaui. 

97.  Nisus.  Virgil,  Aeneid,  IX,  390-3 :  Euryale  infelix,  qua  te  regione  re- 
liqui  ?  |  quaue  sequar,  rursus  perplexum  iter  omne  reuoluens  \  fallacis  siluae  ?  simul  et 
uestigia  retro  \  obseruata  legit,  dumisque  silentibus  errat. 

1 08.  'Turnstiles.  One  may  be  seen  in  the  frontispiece  to  the  second  edition 
of  Trivia. 

114.  Link-Boy.  A  link  was  a  torch,  and  is  said  to  be  derived  from  lint,  'a 
match,'  as  in  lint-stock,  the  old  form  of  linstock,  a  stick  to  hold  a  lighted  match, 
used  by  gunners.  Cf.  Dryden,  Annus  Mirabilis,  188,  'The  linstocks  touch,  the 
ponderous  ball  expires.'  Steele,  at  the  end  of  his  day's  ramble  through  London, 
tells  us  that  he  passed  the  evening  at  Wills's,  '  till  I  heard  the  Streets  in  the 
possession  of  the  Bell-man,  who  had  now  the  World  to  himself,  and  cry'd  Past 
Two  of  Clock.  This  rous'd  me  from  my  Seat,  and  1  went  to  my  Lodging,  led  by 
a  Light,  whom  I  put  into  a  Discourse  of  his  private  Oeconomy,  and  made  him 
give  me  an  Account  of  the  Charge,  Hazard,  Profit  and  Loss  of  a  Family  that 
depended  upon  a  Link,  with  a  Design  to  end  my  trivial  Day  with  the  Generosity 
of  Six-pence,  instead  of  a  third  part  of  that  Sum  '  (S.  454). 

1 1 6.  Alehouse  Benches.  An  alehouse  bench  may  be  seen  in  the  second  plate, 
'  Canvassing  for  votes,'  of  Hogarth's  series  of  election  pictures. 

126.  Nuts.  '  Make  room  there,  says  another  Fellow,  driving  a  Wheelbarrow 
of  Nuts' — Tom  Brown,  Amusements  Serious  and  Comical  (Works,  III,  15).  'We 
mov'd  on  till  we  came  to  Fleet  Bridge,  where  Nuts,  Ginger  bread,  Oranges,  and 
Oysters  lay  pil'd  up  in  Moveable  Shops  that  run  upon  Wheeles,  attended  by  ill 
looking  Fellows,  some  with  but  one  Eye,  and  others  without  Noses ' — The  London 
%(Ashton,  II,  158). 

133.  Lincoln  s-lnn,  i.e.,  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  a  square  immediately  west  of 
Lincoln's  Inn.  'In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  and  the  early  years  of  James  I  the 
site  was  an  open  waste,  the  haunt  of  beggars  and  idle  persons.'  Cf.  Tom  Brown, 
London  and  Westminster  (Works,  I,  171),  'Beggars  take  up  their  respective 
Posts  in  Lincoln's-Inn-Fields  and  other  Places  by  Seven.'  The  Country  Gentle 
man's  Companion,  p.  97, '  The  General  Places  where  the  Masters  of  this  Art  [i.e., 
Guinea-dropping]  Rendezvous,  is  Lincoln's-Inn  Fields  and  Covent  Garden.'  Ib., 
p.  51,  '  Lincoln's-Inn  Fields,  where  the  Mountebank  and  his  Andrew  will  divert 
you  as  well.' 



raird  around.  c  The  rail  to  which  Gay  alludes  was  only  a  wooden  post-and- 
rail;  the  square  itself  was  enclosed  with  iron  rails  for  the  first  time  pursuant  to 

an  ka  passed  in  1 735 '  (L.P.P.). 

137.  T7w/  G-K/d,  etc.  *  Scarecrow,  the  Beggar  in  /,«*«/»  s- Inn-fields,  who 
disabled  himself  in  his  Right  Leg,  and  asks  Alms  all  Day '  (S.  6). 

144.    Crystal  Lamp.     Cf.  Note  on  I,  66. 

145-  Augusta.  According  to  Ammianus  Marcellinus  (XXVII,  viii,  7), 
writing  of  the  year  A.D.  368,  London  was  then  uetus  oppidum,  quod  August  am 
posterltas  appellauit.  It  was  originally  the  capital  of  the  British  tribe  called 
Trinobantes,  and  one  of  its  names' was  Augusta  Trinobantum,  from  which  came 
the  Anglo-French  Troynovant.  So  Swift  (On  Poetry,  280)  calls  it  Augusta 
Trinobantum.  Cf.  Dryden,  Annus  Mirabilis,  295. 

159.  Train  of  Torches.  Cf.  Juvenal,  Sat.,  III,  284-5,  comitum  longissimus 
or  do,  |  multum  praeterea  flammarum  et  aenea  lampas. 

170.  To  cross  the  Way.    Cf.  Note  on  II,  453  above. 

185.  Ostrea,  an  oyster-woman.    So  Pope  (Dunciad,  II,  415)  speaks  of  Norton 
De  Foe  as  '  from  Daniel  and  Ostroea  sprung.' 

1 86.  Wallfleet,^  Place  in  Essex  famous  for  Oisters'  (Bailey).    Cf.  Drayton, 
Poly-olbion,    XIX,    125,  'Think   you   our    Oysters    here    unworthy    of  your 
praise?  |  Pure  Walfleet,  which  do  still  the  daintiest  palates  please.' 

189.  Fleet-Ditch.    See  note  on  II,  124. 

190.  Oyster-Tubs.  'In  Gay's  time  oysters  were  sold  in  the  street  by  wheel 
barrow  men  at  "  Twelvepence  a  Peck."    The  "  choicest  of  oysters,  called  Col 
chester  oysters,"  fetched  prices  ranging  from  is.  8d.  to  3*.  per  barrel ;  while  pickled 
oysters  from  Jersey  could  be  bought  for  is.  8*/.  per  hundred '  (Underbill). 

196.  Brass  or  Steel,  suggested  by  Horace's  ////'  robur  et  aes  triplex  \  circa 
peffus  erat  (Carmina  I,  iii,  9). 

201.  Blood  stuff' d  in  Skins,  i.e.,  black-puddings,  a  kind  of  sausage  made  of 
blood,  suet,  etc.  Hudibras'  breeches  were  lined  with  '  fat  Black-Puddings,  proper 
Food  |  For  Warriors*  that  delight  in  Blood '  (I,  i,  315-6). 

203.  Morell^^n  edible  fungus  of  the  genus  Morchella,  especially  Morchella 
esculenta  '  (N.E.D).  Evelyn  describes  it  as  a  c  delicate  red  Mushroom.' 

Ragousts.  'RAGOO  [F.,  ragout}  a  high  seasoned  Dish  of  Meat'  (Bailey).  'I 
hate  French  Fricasies  and  Ragousts,'  says  Clodpate  in  Shadwell's  Epsom  Wells, 
IV,  i.  Colley  Gibber  (Apology,  1740,  p.  38)  speaks  of  'a  mere  Ragoust,  toss'd  up 
from  the  offals  of  other  authors.'  Cf.  Tom  Brown,  Diverting  Letters  (Works, 
III,  153),  <  No  Pagan  Ragoo's,  nor  high-flown  Kickshaw.'  Spelt  'raggou'  in 
Collirfs  Walk,  p.  144. 

210.  shove  thee  far  without  the  Post.  So  a  '  reverend  sire,  whom  want  of 
grace  |  Has  made  the  father  of  a  nameless  race,'  is 'shoved  from  the  wall '  by  his 
unrecognized  son  (Pope,  Moral  Essays,  I,  232-5). 

215.  Oedipus'  detested  State.  Oedipus  unwittingly  slew  his  father,  Lai'us, 
who  met  him  in  the  way  and 'was  for  thrusting  him  rudely  from  the  path' 
(Sophocles,  Oedipus  Tyrannus,  800-12). 

-   11U   me?thrfeRoadsJMd-    Oed.   7}r.,8oo-I,   rpiirXw  \  or'   3  KtXtiOov 
rfj(To   oooiTTOjOwv  iriXa^. 

221.  fatal  Plague.  The  opening  scene  of  the  Oedipus  Tyrannus  shows  a 
band  of  suppliants  waiting  before  the  palace  of  Oedipus  at  Thebes.  In  answer 
to  the  question  of  Oedipus  as  to  the  cause  of  their  coming,  the  priest  of  Zeus 
tells  him  that  the  city  is  sorely  distressed  with  a  plague  (Oed.  Tyr.,  22-30). 

NO  rES  83 

222.  cursed  Incest,  i.e.,  the  marriage  of  Oedipus  with  his  mother  locasta. 

Children  slain,  i.e.,  Eteocles  and  Polynices,  who  slew  one  another  in  battle, 
when  Polynices  with  six  Argive  chiefs  besieged  Thebes  (Sophocles,  Antigone,  13-4). 

224.  Theban  Streets.  In  the  interval  of  about  twenty  years  which  is  sup 
posed  to  elapse  between  the  end  of  the  Oedipus  Tyrannus  and  the  beginning  of 
the  Oedipus  Coloneus,  Oedipus  after  blinding  himself  was  at  first  allowed  to 
remain  at  Thebes,  but  was  ultimately  expelled,  and  wandered  as  a  blind  beggar 
about  the  country  under  the  guidance  of  his  daughter  Antigone.  In  the  Coloneus 
he  is  found  at  Colonos  about  a  mile  from  Athens. 

231.  Herse  with  'Scutcheons.  In  Ireland's  Graphic  Illustrations  from  Hogarth, 
p.  10,  is  an  etching  from  a  very  scarce  print  by  Hogarth  called  The  Funeral 
Ticket,  in  which  the  hearse,  scutcheons,  and  plumes  are  clearly  shown.  Cf.  Gay's 
Journey  to  Exeter  (Poems,  p.  285),  *  As  herses  pass'd,  our  landlord  robb'd  the 
pall,  |  And  with  the  mournful  scutcheon  hung  his  hall '.  Miscellanies  (ib.,  p.  422), 
*  Thy  heir  with  smiles  shall  view  thy  blazon'd  herse.' 

242.  Nerves,  in  the  old  sense  of  '  tendons,  sinews  '  (veupov,  neruus).  Cf. 
Hamlet,  I,  iv,  83,  *  the  Nemean  lion's  nerve.' 

249.  Guinea-Dropper.  Guinea-dropping,  or  c  Sweetening,'  is  thus  described 
by  *  One  of  the  Chief  Masters  of  the  Faculty'  in  The  Country  Gentleman9  s  Fade 
Mecum  (1699),  pp.  97-101.  'To  make  us  a  Compleat  Set,  there  must  be  three 
of  us  ;  One  to  Personate  a  Merchant,  the  other  a  Country  Gentleman,  and  the 
third  a  Tradesman.  When  we  have  hit  of  our  Cully,  (and  they  have  commonly 
a  damnable  Notion  of  a  Person  for  their  Turn),  One  of  our  Gang  marches 
diredlly  before  him,  and  another  follows  close  behind,  till  they  come  to  a  con 
venient  Place,  where  the  Mouth  (as  they  are  pleas'd  to  term  him)  must  needs 
observe ;  and  then  the  Spark  that  is  in  the  Front,  drops  the  Guinea :  Faith 

Ssays  he,  turning  about  to  the  Stranger),  I  have  found  a  Piece  of  Mony  here, 
think  'tis  a  Guinea ;  and  then  if  he  that's  in  the  Rear  perceives  he's  insensible 
to  the  Cheat,  up  he  steps,  and  claims  Halfs.  After  a  little  Sham-squabble  between 
the  two  Cheats,  says  the  first,  If  any  body  has  any  right  to  a  Snack,  'tis  this  Gentle 
man,  who  saw  me  take  it  up  :  But  to  prevent  Disputes,  Come  (saith  he),  'tis  a 
lucky  hit,  we'll  ev'n  go  all  to  the  Tavern,  and  spend  the  odd  Mony,  and  then 
divide  the  Remainder  fairly  and  equally  amongst  us.  The  third  still  continues 
at  a  distance,  to  observe  the  Success  of  their  Management,  and  in  what  Tavern 
they  house  him,  which  is  one  where  they  commonly  have  a  thorow  Acquaintance 
and  Familiarity:  when  he's  fixt,  then  in  comes  he,  in  a  mighty  Hurry,  and  pre 
tended  Confusion,  for  the  Loss  of  a  Bill,  which  he  says  he  supposes  he  dropt 
just  now,  in  the  very  Room  where  they  are  drinking:  and  to  colour  the  Matter, 
one  of  the  other  two  conveys  a  Sham-bill  under  the  Table,  which  he  immediately 
takes  up,  and  as  a  testimony  of  his  Joy  for  the  Recovery  of  it,  will  needs  call  for 
his  Pint.  After  they  have  drank  two  or  three  Pints,  and  begin  to  grow  a  little 
warm,  up  starts  one  of  'em,  and  pretends  to  have  discovered  a  Pack  of  Cards, 
which  he  has  before  plac'd  in  some  convenient  part  of  the  Room,  for  his  pur 
pose.  Ha  !  says  he,  here's  a  Pack  of  Cards  ;  Come,  Faith,  I'll  shew  you  one  of 
the  prettiest  Tricks,  that  I  was  taught  by  a  Dutchman  t'other  Day,  that  ever  I 
saw  in  my  Life.  And  so  to  possess  their  Cully  of  their  Innocence,  etc.,  they 
shew  several  of  the  ordinary  Tricks 'upon  the  Cards.  At  last,  he  that  is  the 
most  Dexterous,  starts  the  Grand  Trick;  which  they  call  Preaching  the  Parson ; 
how  the  Dogs  came  to  call  it  by  that  Name,  I  know  not ;  unless  it  be,  that  so 
many  honest  Clergymen,  above  the  rest,  have  been  impos'd  upon  by  it.  As  to 


the  manner  of  their  Trick,  'tis  no  great  matter,  my  Design  is  not  to  teach  you 
Tricks,  but  how  to  avoid  'em  :  'tis  a  Palm,  and  a  Slip  that  ^they  have,  a  sort  of 
Deceptio  Visus,  which  if  you  have  a  Curiosity  to  see,  there's  enough  in  Town 
will  equip  you.  If  this  Cheat  takes,  then  they  will  have  no  need  to  try  any 
othet  Expedients ;  but  if  this  don't  pass  upon  you,  then  they'll  try  you  with 
false  Dice,  Rug  and  the  Leather,  or  twenty  other  Projefts,  that  they  have  ready 
upon  such  Occasions.  For,  in  short,  your  Money  they  will  have,  before  they 
part  with  you  ;  or  rather  than  fail,  knock  you  down,  and  rifle  you,  or  pick  your 

Tom  Brown,  in  his  Comical  View  of  London  and  Westminster  (Works,  I,  182), 
speaks  of <  a  son  of  Bacchus '  as  being  c  as  pale  as  a  Guinea-dropper,  when  he 's 
carried  before  a  worshipful  Justice ' ;  and  in  his  Letters  from  the  Dead  to  the 
Living  (Works,  II,  145),  describes  Alexander  the  Great  in  Hades  as  '  Bully  to  a 

262.  Katherine-street,  '  a  street  running  from  the  Strand  to  Russell  Street, 
Covent  Garden.  The  northern  half  was  formerly  called  Brydges  Street.  Drury 
Lane  Theatre  is  at  its  north-east  corner'  (L.P.P.).  According  to  Strype  it  was 
originally  *  well  built  and  inhabited,  and  of  great  resort  for  the  theatre  there.' 
Cf.  Chancellor,  Annals  of  the  Strand,  p.  60.  In  The  Art  of  Living  in  London 
(ed.  2,  1793),  p.  15,  it  is  described  as 'that  street  where  Venus  holds  her  reign,] 
And  Pleasure's  daughters  drag  a  life  of  pain.' 

274.  Charmer!  Love!  my  Dear!  imitated  in  The  Art  of  Living  in  London, 
p.  27,  'In  well-feign'd  accents  now  they  hail  the  ear  |  "My  life,  my  love,  my 
charmer,  or  my  dear." ' 

307.  Watchmen.  Cf.  The  Art  of  Living  in  London,  p.  22,  '  The  drowsy 
watchman  hobbles  to  his  stand,  |  Prepar'd  to  free  the  thief  who  gilds  his  hand.' 
Garth,  Dispensary,  III,  '  So  aweful  Beadles,  if  the  Vagrant  treat,  |  Straight  turn 
familiar,  and  their  Fasces  quit.' 

311.  Lanthorns.  'The  Constable  going  his  Rounds  quickly  made  me  the 
Centre  of  a  Circle  of  Jack  of  Lanthorns  ' — Tom  Brown,  Letters  from  the  Dead  to 
the  Living  (Works,  II,  234).  '  To  understand  the  picture  it  is  needful  to  remem 
ber  that  the  watch  consisted  of  watchmen  with  staves  and  lanterns  led  by  a  con 
stable,  who  carried  a  staff  but  not  a  lantern'  (Wheatley,  Hogarth's  London, 
P-  378). 

314.  scowling  Crew.  '  Scowrers'  was  one  of  many  cant  names  for  the  drunken 
bullies  who  infested  the  streets  of  London  at  this  time.  '  When  night  |  Darkens 
the  streets,  then  wander  forth  the  sons  |  Of  Belial,  flown  with  insolence  and 
wine '  (Milton,  Paradise  Lost,  I,  500-2).  Their  predecessors  were  called  '  Hec 
tors,'  c  Muns,'  and  <  Tityre  Tus.'  Their  doings  are  thus  described  in  Shadwell's 
play,  The  Scowrers.  'We  Scour'd  the  Market  People,  overthrew  the  Butter 
Women,  defeated  the  Pippin  Merchants,  wip'd  out  the  Milk  Scores,  pull'd  off 
the  Door  Knockers,  dawb'd  the  Gilt  Signs.'  The  term  was  evidently  obsolescent 
in  1712,  when  Steele  (S.  276)  makes  the  old  Bencher  of  one  of  the  Inns  of  Court 
say  that  he  had  been  <  a  Scowrer,  a  Scamperer,  a  Breaker  of  Windows,  an  Invader 

°  j  ^nSitableSj  in  the  Da?s  of  Yore>  when  a11  Dominion  ended  with  the  Day, 
and  Males  and  Females  met  helter  skelter,  and  the  Scowrers  drove  before  them 
all  who  pretended  to  keep  up  Order  or  Rule  to  the  Interruption  of  Love  and 

stabk  6'  G"tStM-    D'U|%   (CM'*''  Walk,  p.  76)  thus  describes    the  Con- 

NO  r  E  S  85 

*  A  Wight  of  Conduct  great,  and  Powers, 

Especially  at  Midnight  hours, 

When  in  his  Wooden  Throne  he  sits, 

To  judge  without,  of  others  Wits, 

To  put  the  puzzling  questions  too, 

Of  whence  d'ee  come,  and  where  d'ee  go: 

And  when  the  minutes  Twelve  repeat, 

Profoundly  tell  us  that  'tis  late; 

Then  with  his  Guard  in  State  retire, 

To  Smoak  and  Tope  by  Sea-cole  fire.' 

323.  Nicker.  .Steele(T.  77)  says :  *  When  I  was  a  middle-aged  man,  there  were 
many  societies  of  ambitious  young  men  in  England,  who,  in  their  pursuits  after 
fame,  were  every  night  employed  in  roasting  porters,  smoking  cobblers,  knocking 
down  watchmen, overturning  constables, breaking  windows,  blackening  sign-posts, 
and  the  like  immortal  enterprises,  that  dispersed  their  reputation  throughout  the 
whole  kingdom.  One  could  hardly  find  a  knocker  at  a  door  in  a  whole  street  after 
a  midnight  expedition  of  these  beaux  esprits.  I  was  lately  very  much  surprised  by 
an  account  of  my  maid,  who  entered  my  bedchamber  this  morning  in  a  very  great 
fright,  and  told  me,  she  was  afraid  my  parlour  was  haunted ;  for  that  she  had 
found  several  panes  of  my  windows  broken,  and  the  floor  strewed  with  halfpence.' 
c  A  young  Man  of  very  lively  parts '  may  frequently  be  traced  to  his  lodgings  by 
a  range  of  broken  windows  (S.  576).  A  '  gay  young  gentleman'  thus  describes 
the  Nickers  in  The  British  Apollo  (i  April  1709):  'We  take  a  Hackny-Coach, 
and  make  the  Coach-man  drive  up  and  down  the  Town,  always  providing  our 
selves  with  good  store  of  Copper  Halfpence,  which  we  throw  at  Sash-windows  as 
we  drive  along'  (Quoted  by  Underbill). 

326.  Mohocks.  Steele  (S.  324)  describes  the  Mohocks  as  ca  Set  of  Men,  who 
have  lately  creeled  themselves  into  a  Nocturnal  Fraternity,  under  the  Title  of 
the  Mohock  Club,  a  Name  borrowed,  it  seems,  from  a  Sort  of  Cannibals  in  India, 
who  subsist  by  plundering  and  devouring  all  the  Nations  about  them.'  After 
inflaming  themselves  with  strong  drink,  he  says,  '  they  make  a  general  Sally,  and 
attack  all  that  are  so  unfortunate  as  to  walk  the  Streets  through  which  they 
patrole.  Some  are  knock'd  down,  others  stabb'd,  others  cut  and  carbonado'd. 
To  put  the  Watch  to  total  Rout,  and  mortify  some  of  those  inoffensive  Militia, 
is  reckon'd  a  Coup  d^eclat.  .  .  .  Some  are  celebrated  for  a  happy  Dexterity  in 
tipping  the  Lion  upon  them  ;  which  is  performed  by  squeezing  the  Nose  flat  to 
the  Face,  and  boring  out  the  Eyes  with  their  Fingers:  others  are  called  the 
Dancing-Masters,  and  teach  their  Scholars  to  cut  Capers  by  running  Swords 
thro'  their  Legs  :  a  third  sort  are  the  Tumblers,  whose  Office  it  is  to  set 
Women  on  their  Heads.'  The  '  Sweaters '  used  to  surround  their  victim,  each 
member  of  the  circle  pricking  him  with  his  sword  as  he  turned  his  back,  till  he 
was  thought  to  have  sweat  sufficiently,  when  he  was  rubbed  down  by  some 
attendants  and  discharged  (S.  332).  Budgell  gives  an  imaginary  proclamation 
issued  by  the  '  Emperor  of  the  Mohocks,'  in  which  he  sets  forth  the  limitations 
of  time  and  place  in  which  his  subjects  may  '  tip  the  Lion,'  'sweat,' '  hunt,'  and 
practise  the  art  of  'Tumblers'  (S.  437).  Swift,  in  his  Journal  to  Stella,  has 
many  references  to  the  Mohocks,  e.g.,  8  March  1711-12:  'Did  I  tell  you  of  a 
race  of  rakes,  called  Mohocks,  that  play  the  devil  about  this  town  every  night, 
slit  people's  noses,  and  bid  them,  etc.'  He  comes  home  early,  or  in  a  chair,  for 
fear  of  the  Mohocks.  The  Lord  Treasurer  advises  him  not  to  go  in  a  chair, 

86  r K  i  r  i  A 

because  the  Mohocks  insult  chairs  more  than  they  do  those  on  foot ;  and  young 
Davenant  tells  them  at  court  how  he  was  set  upon  by  Mohocks,  and  how  they 
ran  his  chair  through  with  a  sword. 

330.  Snow-hill,  '  the  confined,  circuitous,  narrow  and  steep  highway  between 
Holborn  Bridge  and  Newgate.  .  .  .  When  Skinner  Street  was  built  in  1802 
Snow  Hill  ceased  to  be  the  highway  between  Newgate  Street  and  Holborn.  It 
regained  little  improved  till  cleared  away  in  forming  the  Holborn  Viaducl  and 
approaches,  1867  '  (L.P.P.).  Swift,  in  his  City  Shower  (T.  238),  describes  how 

'  the  swelling  kennels 

From  Smithfield  or  St.  Pulchre's  shape  their  course, 
And  in  huge  confluent  joined  at  Snow  Hill  ridge, 
Fall  from  the  Conduit,  prone  to  Holborn  Bridge.' 

334.  Regulus,  according  to  the  legend,  on  returning  to  Carthage  from  Rome, 
where  he  had  dissuaded  the  Senate  from  accepting  the  Carthaginian  terms,  was 
placed  in  a  chest,  covered  inside  with  iron  nails,  and  thus  perished.  Cf.  Horace, 
Carmina  III,  v,  13-56. 

345.  Eddystone.  '  Eddystone  lighthouse,  off  the  port  of  Plymouth,  creeled  by 
the  Trinity-house,  to  enable  ships  to  avoid  the  Eddystone  rock.  The  first  light 
house  was  commenced  under  Mr.  Winstanley  in  1696;  finished  in  1699  ;  and 
destroyed  in  the  dreadful  tempest  of  27  November,  1 703,  when  Mr.  Winstanley 
and  others  perished  '  (Haydn,  Dictionary  of  Dates). 

355.  Cries  of  Fire.  In  Hogarth's  engraving,  'The  Times,  Plate  I,' published 
in  1762,  representing  a  fire  in  London,  the  firemen  may  be  seen  squirting  water 
from  syringes,  and  the  fire-engine  of  the  Union  Fire  Office  worked  by  one  of  its 
firemen.    In  The  Microcosm  of  London,  II,  36,  a  coloured  plate   by  Pugin  and 
Rowlandson  shows  the.  great  fire  which  took  place  in  1791   at  the  Albion  Mills 
on  the  Surrey  side  of  Blackfriars  Bridge. 

356.  scattering  Sparks.    Cf.  Dryden,  Annus  Mirabilis,  CCXVII,  <  And  first 
few  scattering  sparks  about  were  blown.' 

366.  helpless  Infant.  Cf.  Annus  Mirabilis,  CCXXVI,  '  And  frighted 
mothers  strike  their  breasts  too  late,  |  For  helpless  infants  left  amidst  the  fire.' 

368.  Dardan  Hero.  In  the  second  book  of  the  Aeneid  (vv.  707-8,  804), 
Aeneas  describes  how  he  bore  his  aged  father  Anchises  on  his  shoulders  from 
the  blazing  ruins  of  Troy. 

378.  Caesar's   'Doom.    Plutarch  (Life  of  Caesar)  speaks  of  'the  fires   in   the 
element '  [i.e.,  the  sky],  that  were  said  to  have  been  seen  before  the  death  of 
Caesar.     Cf.  Shakespeare,  Julius  Caesar,  I,  iii,  1-78. 

379.  veiled  in  Rust,  from  Virgil,  Georgics,  I,  466,  Hit  etiam  exstinfto  miseratus 
Caesar e  Romam,  \  cum  caput  obscura  nitidum  ferrugine  texit. 

383.  nitrous  Store.  So  in  Annus  Mirabilis,  CCXLV,  'the  powder  blows  up 
all  before  the  fire.'  Evelyn,  Diary,  Sept.  5,  1666,  <  began  to  consider  that  nothing 
was  likely  to  put  a  stop  but  the  blowing  up  of  so  many  houses  as  might  make  a 
wider  gap  than  any  had  yet  been  made  by  the  ordinary  method  of  pulling  them 
downe  with  engines.' 

411.  W*  and  G**,  probably  Ward  and  Gildon,  Edward  (commonly  called 
Ned)  Ward  (1667-1714)  published  coarse  poems  satirizing  the  Whigs  and  the 
low-church  party,  and  descriptive  of  life  in  London.  He  is  best  known  as  the 
author  of  The  London  Spy.  Charles  Gildon  (1665-1724)  attacked  Pope  as 
<  Sawney  Dapper,'  and  was  included  by  him  in  The  T>unciad  (D.N.B  )  He  is 
coupled  with  Dennis  (<Dunciad,  III,  173)  and  with  Ward  (ib.,  I,  296).  Pope 

NO  r  E  s  87 

calls  him  *  a  writer  of  criticisms  and  libels  of  the  last  age,'  and  says  that  he  wrote 
some  very  bad  plays.  In  the  Prologue  to  the  Satires  (151),  where  he  is  again 
connected  with  Dennis,  Pope  speaks  of  his  '  venal  quill.' 

412.  Chelsea  used  to  be  famous  for  its  buns.  Swift  writes  to  Stella  (i  May 
1711),*  Pray,  are  not  the  fine  buns  sold  here  in  our  town ;  was  it  not  r-r-r-r-r-r-rare 
Chelsea  Buns?  I  bought  one  to-day  in  my  walk;  it  cost  me  a  penny.'  The 
imaginary  correspondent  in  Budgell's  paper  (S.  175)  describes  how  the  *  Butt,' 
whom  he  had  taken  as  a  foil  in  an  '  Entertainment  upon  the  Water,'  which  he 
gave  to  some  ladies,  turned  the  tables  upon  him,  and  <  rallied  and  tossed '  him  in 
a  <  most  unmerciful  and  barbarous  manner,'  till  they  came  to  Chelsea,  where  he 
had  some  small  success  while  they  were  eating  Cheese-Cakes.  Chelsea  is  coupled 
with  Knightsbridge,  Spring  Gardens,  and  Barn  Elms  by  Mrs.  Frail  in  Congreve's 
Love  for  Love  (II,  ii),  as  a  suburban  pleasure  resort. 

412.  under  Custards.    So  Swift  imagines  Lintot  saying  to  a  country  squire 
who  wants  to  purchase  his  works  a  year  after  his  death  :  *  Sir,  you  may  find  them 
in  Duck  Lane;  |  I  sent  them  with  a  load  of  books  |  Last  Monday  to  the  pastry 
cook's  '  (On  the  Death  of  Dr.  Swift).    '  Anthony  Title-page,  Stationer,'  in  a  letter 
to  the  Spectator  (S.  304),  asks  to  be  allowed  to  print  the  rejected  letters,  or  '  to 
sell  them  by  the  Pound  Weight  to  his  good  Customers  the  Pastry-Cooks  of 
London  and  Westminster.'    Cf.   Pope,  Dunciad,  I,   155-6,  'Of  these  twelve 
volumes,  twelve  of  amplest  size,  |  Redeemed  from  tapers  and  defrauded  pies.' 
Epistle  to  a  Lady,  37,  '  One  common  fate  all  imitators  share,  |  To  save  mince- 
pies,  and  cap  the  grocer's  ware.'   So  in  Latin  the  mediocre  poet  fears  lest  deferar 
in  uicum  uendentem  tus  et  odores  \  et  piper  et  quidquid  chartis    amicitur  ineptis 
(Horace,  Epistles,  II,  i,  269) ;  ne  nigram  cito  raptus  in  culinam  \  cordylas  madida 
tegas  papyro  \  uel  turis  piperisue  sis  cucullus  (Martial,  Epigrams,  III,  ii,  3-6) ;  nee 
scombros  metuentia  carmina  nee  tus  (Persius,  Satires,  I,  43). 

413.  Bandboxes  repair.  So  Pope,  Satires  and  Epistles,  V,  415-9,  '  And  when 
I  flatter,  let  my  dirty  leaves,  |  .  .  .  Cloath  spice,  line  trunks,  or  flutt'ring  in  a 
row,  |  Befringe  the  rails  of  Bedlam  and  Soho.' 

414.  Rockets.  Cf.  Garth,  Dispensary,  VI, '  When  Bonfires  blaze,  your  vagrant 
Works  shall  rise  |  In  Rockets,  'till  they  reach  the  wond'ring  Skies.' 

415.  Fleetstreet  Posts.    Fleet  Street  was    famous   for  its  publishers'  shops. 
Here  Drayton's  Poems  were  published  by  John  Smithwick  in  1608;   The  Corn- 
pleat  Angler,  by  Richard  Marriot  in  1653;  Locke's   Essay  on  the  Human  Under- 
standing  was  first  printed  by  Eliz.  Holt  for  Thomas  Basset   in   1690.    Here 
Edmund  Curll,  Jacob  Robinson,  Lawton  Gilliver,  Bernard  Lintot,  and  Jacob 
Tonson  had  their  shops.    See  Annals  of  Fleet  Street,  by  E.  Beresford  Chancellor. 

Posts.  Publishers  used  to  decorate  the  door-posts  and  walls  of  their  shops  with 
the  titles  of  books  in  red  letters.  So  Pope  speaks  of  his  name  as  '  standing  rubric  ' 
on  the  walls,  and  *  plastering  posts'  with  capitals  (Prologue  to  the  Satires,  215-6). 
In  The  Dunciad,  Lintot's  c  rubric  post '  (I,  40),  and  Osborne's  <  lettered  post ' 
(II,  171)  are  mentioned.  Mark  Pattison  shows  that  the  practice  was  earlier, 
quoting  from  Hall,  Satires,  V,  2, c  When  Maevio's  first  page  of  his  poesy  |  Nail'd 
to  a  hundred  postes  for  novelty.'  Ben  Jonson,  Epigrams,  ep.  3,  c  Nor  have  my 
title-leaf  on  posts  or  walls.'  In  fadl  it  was  as  old  as  Horace.  Cf.  Satires,  I,  71, 
nulla  taberna  meos  habeat  neque  pi  la  libellos.  Ars  Poetica,  372,  mediocribus  esse 
poetis  |  non  homines,  non  di,  non  concessere  columnae.  Martial  (I,  cxvii,  10-12) 
speaks  of  a  bookseller's  shop  as  scriptis  postibus  bine  et  inde  totis,  \  omnes  ut  cito. 
perlegas  poetas, 


ALEHOUSE  Benches,  III,  116. 
Apozems,  II,  442. 
Arundel  House,  II,  361. 
Arundel  Street,  II,  359. 
Asses'  Milk,  II,  13. 
Augusta,  III,  145. 

Balconies,  II,  299. 
Ballad-Singer,  III,  77. 
Bandboxes,  III,  413. 
Bavaroy,  I,  53. 
Beaver,  II,  155. 
Bedford  House,  II,  370. 
Belgian  Stove,  II,  216. 
Bell-man,  II,  365. 
Billingsgate,  II,  10. 
Bills,  II,  418. 
Black-puddings,  III,  201. 
Black  Youth,  I,  23. 
Board,  II,  100. 
Boat,  II,  396. 
Bookseller,  I,  161. 
Breast,  open,  I,  180. 
Burlington  House,  II,  371. 

Camlet,  I,  46. 

Cane,  I,  61,  67,  76. 

Carmen,  II,  138. 

Cecil  House,  II,  370. 

Chairmen,  I,  62. 

Chairs,  II,  391. 

'Change,  II,  215. 

Chaplain,  II,  134. 

Chariots,  I,  69. 

Cheap-side,  II,  122. 

Chelsea,  III,  412. 

Chimney-sweeper,  II,  33. 

Classical  allusions,  I,  35,  115,  117,  133, 
135,  149,  168,  169,  178,  185,  203, 
204, 205,  207,  245,  246,  249 ;  II,  86, 

241,243,  270,  271,  273,  367,  413, 
433;  111,68,  95,  97,  196,215,217, 
221,  222,  224,  334,  368,  378,  379, 

Clement,  Saint,  III,  17. 

Coachman,  I,  153. 

Cock  hat,  II,  60. 

Cockled,  I,  46. 

Common-shores,  I,  171. 

Conclusive,  II,  302. 

Constable,  III,  316. 

Cook,  II,  245. 

Corn,  shooting,  I,  40. 

Cornavian  Cheeses,  II,  132. 

Covent-garden,  II,  221,  425. 

Cravat,  I,  78. 

Cries,  I,  121;  II,  303. 

Crown,  civic,  I,  20. 

Crutch,  III,  137. 

Custards,  III,  412. 

Cynthia,  III,  4. 

Defend,  I,  132. 
Dennis,  II,  440. 
Doily,  I,  43. 
Drugget,  I,  44. 
Drummers,  II,  17. 
Drury-lane,  II,  160. 

Eddystone,  III,  345. 

Eggs,  II,  102. 

Essex  House,  II,  369. 

Fence,  I,  44. 

Fire,  III,  355- 

Flanders  Mares,  II,  452. 

Fleet-ditch,  II,  124;  III,  189. 

Fleetstreet,  III,  415. 

Fob,  II,  90. 

Foot-ball,  II,  226. 



Fortescue,  II,  353. 
Fridays,  II,  297. 
Frieze,  I,  45. 
Frost,  the  great,  II,  235. 

Games  [on  ice],  II,  248. 
Gildon,  III,4ii. 
Gingling,  II,  234. 
Guinea-dropper,  III,  249. 

Hangman,  II,  44. 
Hat,  I,  128,  195. 
Hawkers,  II,  22. 
Heel,  wooden,  I,  31. 
Hendel,  II,  375. 
Herse,  III,  231. 
Hocldey-hole,  II,  288. 
Holly,  II,  319. 

James's,  Saint,  II,  422. 
Jones,  Inigo,  II,  222. 
Joseph,  I,  57. 
Joul,  II,  293. 

Katherine-street,  III,  262. 
Kennels,  I,  15. 
Kersey,  I,  59. 
Knocker,  II,  345. 

Lame,  the,  II,  52. 
Lamp,  I,  66;  III,  144. 
Lanthorns,  III,  311. 
Leaden-hall,  II,  424. 
Lincoln's-Inn,  III,  133. 
Link-Boy,  III,  114. 
Lintott,  II,  443. 
Lock,  Rape  of  the,  II,  441 
Ludgate-hill,  II,  166. 
Lurcher,  III,  64. 

Mackrell,  II,  310. 
Maid,  II,  292. 
Mall,  the,  I,  27,  145. 
Manteau,  I,  no. 
Meuse,  the,  II,  166. 
Milk-maid,  II,  n. 
Misletoe,  II,  320. 
Mohocks,  III,  326. 
Mondays,  II,  290. 
Monmouth-street,  II,  426. 
Moor-fields,  II,  426. 

R  I  r  I A 

Mop,  II,  300. 
Morell,  III,  203. 

Nerves,  III,  242. 
Nettles,  II,  308. 
Newgate,  II,  422. 
Nicker,  III,  323. 
Nitrous,  III,  383. 

Oranges,  II,  313. 
Ostrea,  III,  185. 
Overton,  II,  366. 
Oyster  Cries,  I,  28. 
Oyster-Tubs,  III,  190. 

Paris,  I,  85. 
Pattens,  I,  212. 
Paul,  Festival  of,  I,  177. 
Pavior,  I,  13. 
Pears,  II,  312. 
Perfumer,  II,  29. 
Persian  Dames,  I,  213. 
Peruke,  II,  54. 
Plutarch,  II,  437. 
Posts,  II,  98;  III,  210. 
Posts,  booksellers',  III,  415. 
Prentices,  II,  69. 
Pump,  III,  74. 

Ragousts,  III,  203. 
Rails,  I,  163. 
Raphael,  II,  364. 
Riding-hood,  I,  210. 
Roquelaure,  I,  51. 
Rosemary,  II,  315. 
Russia's  Bear,  I,  50. 

Samian,  the,  II,  115. 
'Scallop'd  Top,  I,  32. 
Scholiasts,  II,  431. 
Scowrers,  III,  314,  325. 
'Scutcheons,  III,  231. 
Seven  Dials,  II,  75. 
Seventh-born  Doftor,  II,  419, 
Shoes,  red-heel'd,  II,  56. 
Signs,  II,  67,  77. 
Slabby,  II,  92,  410. 
Slav'ry  [of  Paris],  I,  86. 
Small-coal,  II,  35. 
Snow-hill,  III,  330. 

INDEX   TO    'THE    N O  T E 

Snuff-Box,  III,  62. 

Sound  [echoing  sense],  III,  257. 

Spanish  Hide,  I,  30. 

Spurn,  II,  211. 

Squirt,  II,  442. 

Stagyra's  Sage,  II,  438. 

Streets  [on  ice],  11/247. 

Surtout,  I,  58. 

Swithin's  Feast,  I,  183. 

Thames  Street,  II,  123,  425. 
Thief,  III,  59. 
Thimble's  Cheats,  II,  166. 
Thursdays,  II,  290. 
Tilts,  I,  164. 
Titian,  II,  363. 
Torches,  III,  159. 
Trivia,  I,  5. 
Turnstiles,  III,  108. 

Umbrella,  I,  211. 

Upholder,  II,  347. 

Urn  [of  river-gods],  II,  280. 

Vellom-Thunder,  II,  18. 

Wall,  command  the,  I,  62. 
Wall,  jostle  for,  I,  200. 
Wallfleet,  III,  186. 
Wallnuts,  II,  311. 
Ward,  III,  411. 
Watch,  III,  61. 
Watchmen,  III,  307. 
Waterman,  II,  239. 
Wednesdays,  II,  297. 
Westphalia,  III,  46. 
White's,  I,  72;  II,  213. 
Wig,  I,  126. 
Witney,  I,  47. 

York  House,  II,  370. 
Ytene,  III,  45. 


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